


Skinny Love

by Stickyouinawormhole13, sunscreams



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dialogue Heavy, Eventual Smut, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Keith is a Dense Idiot, Lance is a Poor Pining Idiot, M/M, Pining Idiots, Recreational Drug Use, recreational alcohol use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2019-06-26 18:13:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 89,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15668571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stickyouinawormhole13/pseuds/Stickyouinawormhole13, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunscreams/pseuds/sunscreams
Summary: Skinny Loven.used to describe a type of relationship between two people that are very in love with each other, or who have deep romanic unsaid feelings for each other; but are far to embarrassed to express their true feelings. The relationship is 'skinny' because they have yet to come out and explain how they feel.Or the one where Keith and Lance fake date each other to make their respective crushes jealous while secretly pining for each other.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all, Karlee here and I'm back on my bullshit, but this time I'm w/ Dee. Please enjoy this labour of love of ours :))
> 
> Also, y'all should check out our beta [here](https://galaxy-gayrrison.tumblr.com).

Keith, like most modern twenty-somethings in America, was stuck in a dead-end, part-time job, working for the corporate man. With a pristine white collared shirt and a pair of black slacks tucked under a black apron, Keith was every bit the shitty hipster barista he _so_ wished he wasn’t.

The crappy, bohemian-filled coffee shop he wasted away in, was about as cliché as chain coffee shops get; complete with soft toned acoustic music and a community blackboard filled with more fliers for hot yoga than a Pinkberry. There was a place like this in every college town, and Keith’s just so happened to be The Beans of Marmora. The last three days and four hours of the past week had been filled with the monotonous pouring of hot water over one hundred percent organic shade-grown, fairly traded coffee beans to bedraggled coffee-addicts; people who justify their enslavement to the bean with the comforting notion that they, by getting their daily caffeine fix from this specific establishment, are doing their part in supporting small farms in Guatemala.

A real drag when Keith thought about it.

So, he tried not to.

Anyways, Keith was on break with his apron draped over his shoulder, his pristine white sleeves rolled up to his elbows, trying to enjoy a half-baked croissant while Lance wasted his time bitching over some fresh rejection from yet another pretty woman.

Keith had been tapping his pen on the table in a rhythmless staccato as he half-listened to Lance rant about his broken heart and wounded pride, and yet, despite the totally stimulating conversation, Keith couldn’t keep his mind from wandering to what he might be eating for dinner tonight. Maybe Chinese take-out? He did have a coupon. It came in the mail this morning. He should just use it, right? Yeah. Chinese tonight.

When Keith forced himself back into the present, Lance was still running his mouth, blubbering over inconsequential details as he stole pieces of Keith’s croissant, Keith watching with a detached sort of resignation.

Keith didn’t know how he got here, but somehow he had sort of become something like Lance’s personal love therapist. And Keith tried to convince himself that it wasn’t because he was Lance’s only closest-cum-maybe-only gay friend, but the longer Lance went on, the more Keith was convinced otherwise.

“I just mean, I think she’s trying to mess with my head,” Lance confessed, propping his elbows on the table, Keith’s half-empty water bottle rattling as Lance pouted his unfortunately thin lips.

“I don’t know, Lance,” Keith tried to keep the sigh out of his voice, “I don’t think it’s that deep.”

“Excuse you,” Lance shot back in his seat, an affronted look on his face, “She’s totally sending me mixed signals.”

Keith sent Lance an incredibly unamused look, “What, and I quote, ‘mixed signals’ is she sending?”

“Well, since you asked,” Lance leaned back in, “First, she likes all my pictures on Instagram, plus texts and/or snaps me at least once a day.”

“Promising,” Keith said, almost drier than the Sahara.

“Then,” Lance ignored Keith, “When I asked her out, she said, and I quote, ‘I’m not ready for a relationship’.”

Keith hummed thoughtfully, “Less promising.”

“Mixed signals.” Lance mimed dropping a mic with his empty water bottle and Keith had to stop himself from getting up and leaving forever.

“Look,” Lance leaned back in, yet again, “It’s a total bummer, but I guess she’s, like, into this guy in one of my government classes, or whatever.”

“Bummer,” Keith agreed with tired eyes. “What was his name?”

“Lotion or some shit,” Lance waved a hand in the air blithely, a disgusted look on his face. “He’s like a watered down Lucius Malfoy with an affinity for purple dress shirts.” Lance mimed gagging and deep down, Keith had to agree. He vaguely remembered a long haired man who had a strange resemblance to Legolas from _Lord of The Rings_ prancing around campus with the air of a man who’d been handed everything his entire life.

Besides Discount Legolas’ shitty attitude, he was pretty handsome with his chiseled jaw, his wide shoulders and his tall, muscular stature; Keith idly wondered if Allura perhaps had a type.

Then immediately if _he_ had a type.

“I practically announced my eternal love for her and her luscious silver locks and gorgeous, periwinkle eyes,” Lance said with a sigh, seemingly lost in his own musings.

“Embarrassing,” Keith couldn’t stop the quip from coming.

“Please, that is _not_ the most embarrassing thing I’ve done today,” Lance shot right back. If he had a tea, he would have sipped it. “You know, I was really going to build her a telescope and wait outside her dorm with a boombox.”

Keith rolled his eyes, somehow not surprised, “Seems unnecessary.”

“Have you met me?” Lance rolled his eyes, stealing the last of Keith’s croissant, before he sucked the flakes off the tips of his fingers, igniting the weirdest feeling low in Keith’s belly that he was going to studiously _ignore_.

“I never half-ass anything,” Lance let out a laugh, “I mean, honey, I’m packing some cake.”

“You are not packing cake,” Keith rolled his eyes, “I can’t believe you made me say that with my own mouth.”

“Please, that’s not even the worst thing I’ve made you say,” Lance teased, and despite the blush that was _definitely not_ staining Keith’s cheeks, he had to laugh.

“Whatever,” Keith covered his unfortunate amusement with a roll of his eyes, “Things are probably going to be pretty awkward between you two, hey?”

“I hope not,” Lance sighed through his nose, seemingly genuinely dejected. “I still want to be friends with her.”

Keith said nothing for a moment, just letting Lance pout for a few beats before Keith finally said, “Well, Allura is way out of your league anyway.”

Lance gasped, a hand thrown dramatically over his heart, “You wound me.”

“Sticks and stones, Lance,” Keith shot and Lance rolled his eyes.

“Whatever, you’re right, though,” Lance dropped the act.

“Can I get that in writing?” Keith quipped.

“I mean, she's just so freaking likable and charming,” Lance ignored Keith, “I'm pretty sure every single person in this damn school is secretly in love with her. She's the center of attention—the center of _my_ attention,” Lance shoved a hand over his heart, hitting himself so hard Keith could hear the dull thud of his palm hitting his chest.

“And poor me!” Lance bemoaned, “I'm just a tiny speck on her radar,” Lance’s hands gesturing so wildly that he nearly knocked over Keith’s poor water bottle.

“Poor you,” Keith placed his chin in his own palm, his elbow resting on the mahogany tabletop.

“Poor me,” Lance mirrored Keith.

“So, what’re you going to do about it, Drama Slut?”

“Probably nothing, Mullet Queen.”

They stared at each other for a moment, Keith entirely unimpressed, Lance entirely pathetic.

“I don’t have a mullet,” Keith finally settled on.

“Please,” Lance rolled his eyes, “Get a mirror, you disaster gay.”

“It’s super not a mullet,” Keith shot back.

Lance hummed thoughtfully as he reached over the table to tug at the back of Keith’s hair. “Totally a mullet.”

“Stop,” Keith said, swatting Lance’s hand away. “You could, I don’t know, move on? Isn’t this like your fourth attempt at asking Allura out?”

“Aw, you do listen,” Lance cooed, pillowing his chin on both of his hands.

“I have to or else you won’t ever shut up,” Keith said with an exasperated sigh.

“What else do you suggest?”

“Moving on,” Keith deadpanned.

“Not an option, Allura is the love of my life,” Lance said immediately.

“Thought you might say that,” Keith leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms across his chest. Keith thought for a moment and then said, “Maybe ask someone else out?”

“Not moving on, Keith,” Lance sighed.

“No, okay, yeah,” Keith rolled his eyes, “But, like, I don’t know, fake it.”

“What?” Lance was being a dumbass.

“Like, make her jealous. Pretend to move on or something,” Keith shrugged, “Show her what she’s missing.”

“As if it were that easy?” Lance seemed surprisingly shocked with his answer. “Who do you think I am?”

“Lover boy Lance?” Keith quoted, feeling the build up of cringe settling in his stomach. “Isn’t that what you call yourself?”

“Freshman year was a very hard time for me,” Lance defended, “Please spare me.”

Keith hummed, “Perish.”

“I hate you,” Lance crossed his legs and stole a sip of Keith’s water.

“You’re a leech,” Keith said, playing with the straps of his gloves.

“And you’re a bitch,” Lance shot back, screwing the top of the water bottle back on. “How was your day? Anything new to report, Cadet?”

Keith grimaced, feeling a blush wash over his face.

His day had been miserable. And not because Iverson kept everyone behind fifteen minutes after the lecture ended. Not because Keith accidentally crushed a totally rotten apple in his bag earlier. And not because he’d burned his hand five, _five_ , different times on the coffee machines today.

But because Shiro’s crush on Allura was becoming more, and more obvious as the days went by, making Keith more, and more pissy as the days went by because of his painfully obvious crush on Shiro.

And it all just sucked how completely oblivious Shiro was.

Shiro was ridiculously popular, and he had his fair share of admirers, confessing their unrequited feelings pretty much on the daily. And maybe because of the fact that so many people just straight up liked him, he never noticed Keith right in front of him, pining away like a complete idiot.

A popular guy like Lance, however,  would never let something like this slip under his radar. He always seemed to know who’s into who and especially who’s into him. If Lance’s best friend was hopelessly pining after him, he would totally notice. In fact, Keith was willing to bet real money that Lance would have talked his ear off about it already.

And that’s the difference between the two of them.

Well, that and the fact that Lance was a loud-mouth, boyish, lovable idiot and Shiro was a great leader with a strong sense of justice, and a jawline that was practically stamped with the word ‘provider’. The fact that Shiro was just one super, mega, hot, fucking piece of man, really wasn’t helping Keith’s luck in getting over him.

Keith let out a depressed sigh.

“Nothing exciting, same boring classes,” Keith said and then added a beat later, “I met up with Shiro.”

“Oh?” Lance said, smiling, interest piqued.

“He was...with Allura.”

Lance deflated, “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Keith grunted.

“How’s that going for you?” Lance queried, looking at Keith in a similar way that someone pities an ugly dying animal. “You know, the Shiro thing?”

Despite the fact that Lance was positively thirsty for gossip, he usually steered pretty clear of this topic. Mostly because anyone with eyes could see how desperately in love Keith was with his best friend--with the exception of Shiro, of course. But also because of how much it actually hurt Keith to talk about.

Shiro was a great guy, but holy shit, he was so terribly, terribly oblivious. And Keith wasn’t sure if that was a good thing, or a very, very bad thing.

“It’s…” Keith starts, trailing off to let out a weary sigh. “Going swell,” Keith said dryly, testily tucking his arms around his body.

“And what might Keith Kogane’s definition of ‘swell’ be?” Lance asked, inching towards Keith. “Isn’t that the question of the day.”

Keith rolled his eyes, “Two things, Lance.” Keith popped his elbow on the table, “Shut,” he popped a finger, “Up,” then he popped another one, making a peace sign.

Lance raised his hands in surrender. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

“Lance, literally everything about you is offensive,” Keith lowered his arms across the table in front of himself.

“Yeah, well,” Lance started, clearly offended, “Your name offends me. What kind of white ass bread name is Keith—”

“Enough about this, Jesus H. Christ.”

“Did you really just say Jesus H. Christ.”

“I’m from Texas,” Keith defended himself hastily, “Anyways, are you going to give up on Allura?”

Lance expression wilted momentarily, and then said a mournful voice, “Maybe… Maybe not? I’m not ready to give up on her.”

Keith rolled his eyes, “Of course.”

And this was Keith’s life.

That was Monday.

* * *

 

Wednesdays were a special brand of sweet torture for Keith. Because on Wednesdays Keith spent two-to-three hours with Shiro in their local gym. Working out. In tight fitting (because everything was tight fitting on Shiro) clothing. With sweat. And banter.

Basically it was Keith’s freshest hell.

But today was particularly bad because Shiro kept _smiling_ at him. There was the cheerful grin that Shiro sent Keith’s way when they met up in the lobby. Then there was the playful smirk Shiro shot over his shoulder as he started running down the track. And the sweet quirk to his lips when he tossed Keith a water bottle. The handsome slant of a weary mouth as Shiro patted his face down with a towel.

And Keith had never been good with subtlety before, _in his life_ , but all this _smiling_ was hitting Keith like a less-than-metaphorical idiot-stick. And, _God_ , did Keith ever feel like _Lance,_ of all people in this moment, because here he was, with his best friend and long-time crush, thinking maybe, just _maybe_ , his feelings could be reciprocated.

And like an _idiot_ , he wanted to act on them.

Maybe that was his first mistake.

“So, Shiro,” Keith started, rocking on the balls of his feet, clutching the straps of his workout bag as he waited for Shiro to tie his shoes.

Shiro hummed in acknowledgement and Keith continued, “I, um, I really wanted to just say--” Keith cut himself off, “No wait, backtrack.” His fucking palms were sweating and _god_ this was such a bad idea.

“Keith, are you okay?” Shiro looked up from his sneakers, a concerned look on his face, and Keith couldn’t stop the way his heart skipped a few beats if he tried.

Keith cleared his throat, “Yeah, I’m fine, I just--” Keith chuckled nervously, “I’m kinda nervous, a little bit.”

One of Shiro’s perfectly sculpted eyebrows rose and a cute little concerned smile curled over Shiro’s lips, “About what?”

“Well,” Keith couldn’t look at him while he did this, so he looked at one of the grey lockers behind him, “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I, well, I was sort of wondering if you’d want to catch lunch after this?”

“Um,” Shiro started, something like confusion maring his features. He let out a confused sounding chuckle, “Keith, if I didn’t know any better I’d say that sounded like you were asking me on a date.”

Keith felt his cheeks warm all the way up to his ears as he shrunk into himself, “Well, actually, I kind of…” Keith trailed off, looking back at Shiro’s stricken face, “...was,” Keith finished lamely.

Shiro didn’t say anything for a few beats, the silence stretching between them thick enough to slice open and bleed thick, hot blood all over the gym floor. The ground swallowing Keith whole and dropping him directly into hell would have been better than that silence. Better than the shocked look on Shiro’s face. Better than the confusion and the disgust and the _pity_.

Keith knew what that meant. And his heart melted into the very empty pit in the bottom of his stomach, gaping and raw.

“Keith,” Shiro started, his voice gentle and so full of fucking _pity_ that Keith didn’t even want to hear it.

“No, Shiro, it’s okay,” Keith shook his head, gave a humourless laugh, “I got it. You really don’t have to say anything.”

“No, Keith, I think I do,” and he stood up and that was worse because now the main part of Shiro’s bulk was right in Keith’s face and he was still _sweaty_ and his shirt was so _tight_ and it just wasn’t fair because Shiro was trying to let him down gently.

“You’re like a brother to me, Keith,” Shiro sighed the words like they didn’t feel like a killing blow.

“Right,” Keith nodded. He shook his head, “Look Shiro, I really gotta go.” Because he couldn’t handle another second of Shiro’s pitying look, or his broad, strong chest, or his deep, kind grey eyes, or his _you’re like a brother to me, Keith_.

“Keith—” Shiro started.

“It’s whatever, Shiro,” Keith rushed out, and without listening to another word from Shiro, Keith left.

He hightailed it the fuck out of the gym, the shame of ruining a friendship hot in his chest, the anger of rejection burning the blood from his veins until all he could feel was white hot pain. He felt weightless as he ran, not quite knowing where he was going, a familiar kind of dread making his head spin.

This was the same dread he felt when he thought about his mother; leaving him as a baby. The same dread he felt when his dad died. The same dread he felt every time he allowed himself to feel like he might’ve found himself a place—a person—he could love, only for that to be taken away.

Only for him to be proven unlovable. Broken. Unwanted.

* * *

 

Keith had spent the majority of the last two days crying his fucking eyes out, mourning not only the loss of the best gym on his side of the city (because Keith would never be able to step foot in there without the memory of his truly tragic and pathetic rejection resurfacing to burn a hole through his chest to remind him that he is truly unlovable), but also the loss of his best friend.

Shiro had been his best friend since high school, sticking by him through his gay crisis and through three different foster homes. Shiro was there when James Griffin tried to out Keith to the entire school. Shiro was there when Keith totalled his car after stealing it. Shiro was there when he almost flunked out of university.

Shiro was always there.

And now he won’t be.

Because Keith totally fucking ruined everything.

So, for the past two days, Keith has been holed up on his couch in nothing but a ratty pair of boxers and an old, oversized t-shirt that had belonged to Shiro a year ago, slowly working his way through a tub of ice cream —because a) Keith hated himself as of the moment so fuck lactose intolerance, b) non-dairy ice cream is way out of a poor college student’s budget, and c) _FUCK LACTOSE INTOLERANCE—_ working his way through the Gay and Lesbian section on Netflix.

He was currently sobbing his way through _Blue is the Warmest Color_ when he decided he needed a break. Lesbians cheating on each other was not something that was making him feel better. So, with that decided, looking like a  true a work of art—snot running down his nose and puffy eyes rimmed with red—he shuffled his way over to his pile of forgotten clothes, searching for the phone that was hopefully still in one of the pockets.

When Keith had pushed through his front door, angry and sweating and full of a bone-deep hurt, he had thrown off his clothes—his rejection clothes—in a mad attempt at getting the hut off of him. In the scramble however, his phone had been left behind, and it made him kind of feel like a loser that he hadn’t noticed it was missing for almost two days—but only a little bit.

When he finally unearthed the phone from the pile of semi-sentient laundry at the bottom of his closet, he was somehow both perplexed and completely surprised to see he had received a screen-full of spam messages from Lance.

Keith didn’t want to check it yet, still feeling the shame residing in his chest. Maybe Lance found out what happened and wanted to rub it in his face. Keith wasn’t better than Lance, and god, after all the times that Keith had belittled Lance for agonizing over Allura, he’d deserve whatever comments Lance had for him.

But then Shiro’s pitying look—the one he’d sent Keith in the gym locker room—flashed into Keith’s head, and imagining a pitying look from _Lance_ of all people made Keith want to throw up. Keith couldn’t bear being pitied anymore, and he certainly wouldn’t allow himself to be pitied by Lance of all people. God forbid.

With that, Keith paused the movie and opened his phone.

**forehead** _wednesday, 10:43am_  
MuLLeT 

**forehead** _wednesday, 10:43am_  
I got some tea to spill 

**forehead** _wednesday, 10:43am_  
Like Real Tea. 

**forehead** _wednesday, 2:45pm_  
Keith? 

**forehead** _wednesday, 2:45pm_  
Keiiiiiiiith? 

**forehead** _wednesday, 3:02pm_  
Keefers McMullet? 

**forehead** _wednesday, 3:02pm_  
HELLO?

**forehead** _wednesday, 3:19pm_  
Okay you’re probs fine but if not im here for you

**forehead** _wednesday, 4:55pm_  
Are you ignoring me??? 

**forehead** _wednesday, 4:55pm_  
???? 

**forehead** _wednesday, 4:55pm_  
Would like to know

**forehead** _wednesday, 9:11pm_  
Bush did it just like for you to know

**forehead** _wednesday, 10:18pm_  
Oh come ON Keith 

**forehead** _wednesday, 10:18pm_  
That was genuinely funny and you know it

**forehead** _wednesday, 11:25pm_  
:(((((((( 

**forehead** _wednesday, 11:25pm_  
Stop ignoring me mullet

**forehead** _thursday, 12:04am_  
Keith 

**forehead** _thursday, 12:04am_  
Keith 

**forehead** _thursday, 12:05am_  
Keith 

**forehead** _thursday, 12:05am_  
KEITH 

**forehead** _thursday, 12:06am_  
KEITH

**forehead** _thursday, 12:32am_  
KEITH 

**forehead** _thursday, 12:32am_  
KEITH 

**forehead** _thursday, 12:33am_  
KEITH 

**forehead** _thursday, 12:33am_  
KEITH 

**forehead** _thursday, 12:34am_  
KEITH

**forehead** _thursday, 1:24am_  
I won’t stop spamming you 

**forehead** _thursday, 1:24am_  
This is real friendship

**forehead** _thursday, 12:34pm_  
Talked to hunk and no one has seen you since tuesday

**forehead** _thursday, 12:34pm_  


Buddy are you okay??

**forehead** _thursday, 2:16pm_  
Okay i know we don’t do this ever, but like keith buddy 

**forehead** _thursday, 2:16pm_  
Please answer me i’m getting kinda worried

**forehead** _today, 3:56am_  
If you’re murdered in a ditch somewhere im gonna be so pissed off

**forehead** _today, 11:34am_  
Hey man, I haven’t heard of you in a while... 

**forehead** _today, 11:34am_  
Hoping you’re alive… 

**forehead** _today, 11:34am_  
How sad would this be if you were like dead

**forehead** _today, 12:42pm_  
Keith please don’t be dead.

The last one definitely made Keith’s heart skip. He definitely heard.

**mullet man** _today, 1:24pm_  
Hey. 

**mullet man** _today, 1:24pm_  
I’m alive

Not even a ten seconds later, there was a reply.

**forehead** _today, 1:24pm_  
Oh my god 

**forehead** _today, 1:24pm_  
Thank god

**mullet man** _today, 1:25pm_  
We don’t do this 

**mullet man** _today, 1:25pm_  
But thanks for caring

**forehead** _today, 1:25pm_  
Woah, Keith slow down people will start to think you’re in love with me

**mullet man** _today, 1:28pm_  
Things are Not Good Lance

**forehead** _today, 1:28pm_  
?

**mullet man** _today, 1:30pm_  
i made a big mess kill me

**forehead** _today, 1:31pm_  
Would love to 

**forehead** _today, 1:31pm_  
I’d even bury you with all of your MCR merch

**forehead** _today, 1:31pm_  


But gotta ask

**forehead** _today, 1:32pm_  
Why?

**mullet man** _today, 1:36pm_  
Horrifically Rejected

**forehead** _today, 1:37pm_  
Oh shit, seriously? 

**forehead** _today, 1:37pm_  
So, you finally got the balls to confess to Shiro?

**mullet man** _today, 1:41pm_  
Unfortunately yes

**forehead** _today, 1:43pm_  
Thank god, no one’s seen you since tuesday so 

**forehead** _today, 1:43pm_  
We all thought it was cancer

**mullet man** _today, 1:45pm_  
Oh 

**mullet man** _today, 1:45pm_  
Yeah well 

**mullet man** _today, 1:45pm_  
One of my best friendships is totally ruined now

**mullet man** _today, 1:42pm_  
No biggie 

**mullet man** _today, 1:42pm_  
Hahaha

**forehead** _today, 1:51pm_  
Okay if I can salvage my friendship with Allura after all the flirting I’ve done

You and Shiro will be more than okay

Keith didn’t know what to say to that. Not only because he didn’t believe it, but because Lance and Keith were two very different entities. Lance’s DNA flirted; Keith’s DNA had a knife pointed at anyone who got within 100 yards of himself. So, call him crazy, but Keith was a little more than dubious on that front.

**mullet man** _today, 2:25pm_  
I just don’t know how I could possibly face Shiro again w/o feeling like a giant idiot

**forehead** _today, 2:51pm_  
I might have a plan 

**forehead** _today, 2:51pm_  
To get you your mannn

**mullet man** _today, 3:01pm_  
Why do I text you

**mullet man** _today, 3:45pm_  
Are you going to tell me the plan?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 should be out sometime Friday.
> 
> Karlee:  
> [Personal Tumblr](https://sunscreams.tumblr.com)  
> [Voltron Tumblr](https://klancend.tumblr.com)  
> Dee:  
> [Personal Tumblr](https://vampingqueen.tumblr.com)  
> [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/deadkid_draws/)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance has a plan, Keith panics, and the lying begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, as always to our lovely beta [Jocc.](https://galaxy-gayrrison.tumblr.com)

There were many things about Lance that annoyed Keith. Like the fact that he genuinely thought finger-guns were an effective flirting technique, or how Lance couldn’t hold a pen without clicking it 50 billion times, or how when Lance ate, about 45% of whatever he was munching on usually ended up all over him.

Watching Lance eat was like watching a gory movie; you want to look away because it’s disgusting, but you just can’t force your eyes to move.

And somehow, that was how Keith spent his break, watching as Lance went to town on a B.L.T. sandwich, a piece of lettuce peeking out of his mouth like an overweight hamster. His cheeks stuffed full of food (and really adding to the hamster imagery here) as he continued to ramble his way through whatever TMZ-headliner he was living through.

With every crumb or piece of lettuce that fell from Lance’s mouth, Keith felt himself get more, and more irritated. Keith’s eyebrow twitched from the strain, yet he found himself unable to look away from the trainwreck of a person, sitting in front of him; simply fascinated.

“You know what she tells me?” Lance said, planting his hands on to the table, some of the lettuce catapults out of his mouth and directly onto Keith’s shirt. “ _I see you as a brother._ A brother! Are you serious?!”

A pang sliced through Keith’s chest, his heart beating harshly like a drum being brutally beaten as he recalled his conversation with Shiro on Wednesday.

 _You’re like a brother to me, Keith_  

The words echoed in his mind, reverberating into his skull, leaving him with a stuttering heart and the beginnings of a migraine. Keith was so focused on his recent fuck up that he hadn’t noticed that Lance had stopped talking to give him a concerned look. Lance must have asked a question and was expecting an answer.

“Sorry, what?” Keith cleared his throat, “I zoned out for a sec.”

“How often do you do that while I’m talking?” Lance raised a suspicious eyebrow.

“All the time,” Keith responded, completely deadpan, “What did you ask me? You’re staring at me like you want to dissect me or something,” Keith scratched the back of his neck, “It’s creepy, dude.”

“Well…”

 “Spit it out.”

Now, Keith hadn’t meant it literally, but apparently Lance did, because in the next moment, bits of food hailed down onto Keith’s face. While trying not to launch himself across the table and straight up _murder_ Lance for that one, Keith scrunched up his face in disgust and wiped the second-hand sandwich off his face with a napkin.

“Sorry, got excited,” Lance said, sounding very not sorry, “I took your idea into consideration,” Lance started, wiggling his fingers. “The fake dating thing.”

“Yeah?” Keith was trying to put all of his anger into balling up the napkin he’d used to wipe his face off with.

“We should do it,” Lance said and Keith froze.

He stopped beating the shit out of his napkin, instead glancing up at Lance, a glare cooling his features, “We?”

“Yes, you, Keith, Keitherine, Keefers McMullet,” Lance leaned forward on the table that separated them, “You and I are gonna be boyfriends,” he stage-whispered the words between them like he’d just laid down the groundwork for world peace and didn’t want any government plants to hear about it.

“Excuse me?” Keith didn’t quite know what to say.

Lance’s eyes twinkled, quickly unnerving Keith. Lance continued, “Isn’t that, like, the best idea I could have ever come up with?”

“W-What?,” Keith sputtered, nearly dropping his donut.

“You should go out with me,” Lance said—didn’t ask— _said._ Keith felt his hands start to shake in anger, pulling them into fists on his knees to stop himself from going completely postal on Lance’s flat ass. Lance hadn’t even asked.

Keith shook his head furiously. “That is the worst fucking idea I have ever heard. Just a couple days ago you told me you weren’t over Allura.”

“True, but you said—” Keith gave him the stink eye, “What! You’re the one who suggested the fake dating thing!”

“I didn’t mean to do it with me!” Keith said exasperatedly. Keith pushed the heels of his palms into his eyes until color bloomed behind them, counting to ten, and reciting Shiro’s _patience yields focus_. The mantra usually helped Keith with his more volatile temperament issues.

“Look, Lance, you’re not a bad guy. You’re actually pretty nice, when you get drop all the bullshit,” Keith paused to let out a mammoth sized sigh, Lance let out a small, ‘Hey’ before Keith continued, “But, dude, you’re not really my type.”

“You’re not really my type either,” Lance said breezily, flicking Keith’s nose. Keith sent Lance a look that would have killed a lesser man and Lance continued, “I’m not saying you’re supposed to like me! Just pretend, jeez, keep up.”

“Lance,” Keith started, saying each word slowly. “I’m not fake dating you. Not now. Not ever.”

“C’mon…”

“No.”

“Wait...just...”

“Oh no, no, no.”

“C’mon, Mullet!”

“No! No way!”

“Just wait, stop it, stop!”

“Absolutely not!”

“Think about it, Keith!” Lance smacked the flat of his palm on the table, leaning in for emphasis, “We could help each other out!”

“I don’t see how fake dating you helps me at all,” Keith quipped. “In fact, in the long run, fake dating you will probably shorten my lifespan by 25 years.”

“Ignoring that _horrible_ insult, wow,” Lance pressed a hand to his sternum. “You want Shiro to look at you as _not_ a brother,” he said, pointing Keith accusingly. And oof, there’s that annoying dull throbbing in his chest again. “And I want Allura to finally see me for the gentleman I truly am! We just need to pretend to like each other for awhile. Just long enough for them to see what they’re missing out on! Just like you said.”

“You’re on crack,” Keith hissed, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, “And not even the good kind!”

“You wound me,” Lance rolled his eyes, “You know I wouldn’t do anything less than the best blow.”

“Not the point, Lance,” Keith sighed.

“Is dating me really that bad?”

“Yes!” Keith said, and something flashed across Lance’s face that looked suspiciously like hurt. Keith felt a little bad, so he backtracked and said, “No, I mean—I don’t know. Lance, I just want to take this…” Keith trailed off, pursing his lips together as his heart sank, not knowing how to express the deep well of sadness and hurt that Shiro's rejection caused. “I just don’t want to think about dating. At least not for a while.”

Lance stared at Keith for a few beats, his face an unreadable mask before he sighed, “I get it, it’s okay.” Lance shook his head, and scratched the back of his neck. “I just figured we could kill two birds with one stone, you know?” Lance let out a little chuckle, “Nothing would even really have to change. With the way straight dudes interact these days, us being bros would be no different from us being more than bros.”

Keith let out a sigh, “Lance--”

“Look you don’t have to make up your mind now,” Lance wiped his hands on a napkin that was sitting in his lap (probably a necessary precaution with the way he eats, oh my god). “Just think about it okay?”

Keith sighed again, rubbing his hand along his forehead, desperately trying to chase away the tension headache that was approaching, “I’ll think about it.”

“Awesome,” Lance’s smile was blinding.

* * *

In an usual turn of events, somehow Keith had ended up in Pidge’s room. Lance had accidentally taped over Pidge’s vintage copy of the no-longer-available-in-stores trilogy of _Back To The Future_ with fucking _Thunderbird 2086_ instead of torrenting that shit like a goddamned grown up (Pidge’s words). While she had gone through the six degrees of grief (and a plan to pour all of Lance’s toner down the toilet), Keith had dug around to find the playstation and a couple grams of weed, hoping to  just jam around playing Mario Kart and smoking weed, until their eyes felt they were going to fall out.

Good ole’ Hunk and his good graces arrived not too long ago, bearing a bag of Chipotle as an offering (hallelujah!) and because Hunk brought food, Keith and Pidge gave him bluetooth privileges, even though Hunk’s Spotify was mainly k-pop girl groups and super indie euro-pop. And despite the fact that sometime between “Electrodome” and “Mount Wario”, the poor guy passed out slumped over Pidge’s shitty couch from a food coma, they still haven’t turned it off.

Pidge and Keith respected bluetooth privileges…or maybe it was from the pot? Keith wasn’t too sure. He was kind of high.

It was between matches when Keith was repacking the bong and Pidge was chewing on some fried rice and staring into the middle-distance with her wide owlish eyes, that, out of nowhere, Pidge said, “This just reached a whole new level of pathetic.”

“I honestly don’t know what you expected,” Keith deadpanned, “It’s not like you have any cool friends.”

“Ouch,” Pidge half-heartedly winced, “Self-burn; super effective.”

Keith rolled his eyes, “Why do I hang out with you?” Keith muttered sarcastically, staring at the ceiling intently. There was a stain up there. Keith idly wondered if the brown stain was from water damage, or a horrible coffee incident. If it was coffee, Keith wondered, how did it even get up there?

“You hang out with me because I let you play my Playstation and smoke my weed,” Pidge quipped taking the bong from Keith’s hands, only for her to settle it in her lap.

Keith grumbled and closed his eyes, willing the obnoxious _repeating_ of the music playing in the background to stop ricocheting around the interior of his skull. It was the third time the same fucking BLACKPINK song played on repeat. Keith never knew the big guy liked BLACKPINK so fucking much.

“Anyway,” Pidge mimed flipping her hair over her shoulder, very Valley Girl-esque, “I wasn’t talking about that.” Pidge shoved more rice into her mouth, one-handed, not a single grain dropping off of her fork. Pidge’s neatness brought Keith back to that morning and Lance’s, frankly, disgusting eating habits. It also brought him back to Lance’s fake dating suggestion.

Pidge continued, despite her mouth full of food, “I mean, your emo brooding. It’s lasting longer than usual,” Pidge swallowed her mouthful of rice, “Penny for your thoughts?”

Keith stared at the small grains of rice stuck to Pidge’s chin and lips, grease making her lips look glossy. It made him vividly remember his encounter with Lance and the whole fake dating idea.

Keith sighed, spotting a swirly blue stress ball lying on the coffee table in front of him. Without answering Pidge’s question, Keith leaned his forearms onto his knees and snatched the marbled stress ball, giving it an experimental squeeze.

The color of the ball, Keith realized, was one that had been completely absent from his life. Growing up in a Texan desert, Keith was used to oranges, and yellows, dry browns and scuffed metals, more than the hydrating balm that is blue. Of course, Keith had lived through blues. Like the pale afternoon sky, cloudless and boundless and mocking you from its perch, far out of reach and much cooler than you. Or the deep, endless navy the sky turned at night, littered with a million stars, and almost within reach. Or the winking turquoise of a chipped vintage pickup, rumbling its way down a dusty dirt road.

Except the blue of the stress ball was nothing like any of those blues. It was an unknown, unexperienced blue. The blue of a beach on a summer day, where the sky is high and full of puffy white clouds and the ocean is a cooling balm on your sunburned skin. Where the waves are almost alive in their movement, chasing after you like a cat to a laser pointer.

Keith could see this blue so clearly, and yet, he had never experienced this blue first-hand.

He’d like to experience it one day.

A blue like Lance’s eyes.

God damn, Keith was fucking baked.

“My thoughts are worth more than a penny,” Keith shot back as he closed his hand around the stress ball and moved to sit back against the foot of the couch, his shoulder barely an inch away from Pidge’s.

Pidge raised an eyebrow. “Please,” her tone was dry and mocking and Keith didn’t like that one bit.

So, he rolled his eyes (to show his displeasure), and relented with a sigh. “It’s fucking Lance,” Keith didn’t look at Pidge, opting instead to throw the stress ball against the wall, catching it when it bounced back.

“Of course it is,” Pidge muttered, grabbing a lighter and flicking in once. “What about him?” she asked just before she lit the bong, pulling thick smoke into her lungs.

Keith groaned, “He said we should fake date. Can you believe the nerve of that guy?”

Pidge coughed out her entire lungful of smoke, her face turning red with the strain of it, “He what?”

“We said we should fake date,” Keith stressed again, handing her a water bottle to make sure she didn’t actually die from weed choking.

 “ _Why_?” Pidge stressed, after taking a large cleansing gulp of water.

“I don’t know,” Keith shrugged, his muscles feeling slow and uncoordinated, “Maybe he’s finally braindead.”  

“We’re not that lucky,” Pidge quipped, wiping away some tears that had escaped her eyes during her coughing fit earlier.

“Maybe it’s ‘cause I listen to him whine about his problems?” Keith pondered aloud, ignoring Pidge’s sick burn, “Like who the hell just asks someone that? We’re not in some shitty rom com! This is unfortunately my life.”

Pidge hummed in agreement, taking another gulp of water.

"Who the fuck does he think I am? Some sort of love-sick desperado?” Keith turned so he was facing Pidge fully, “Do I have a giant neon sign that says ‘DATE ME’ plastered to my forehead?" Keith half-yelled, eyebrows scrunched together.

“I think the amount of hair you have covers the sign,” Pidge said with a snort, leaning forward to flick some of said bangs, “I mean, is it ‘cause you’re from Texas? Big hair and all?”

“It’s not that big,” Keith self-consciously smoothed his hand down the top of his head. Was his hair really that bad? Because it honestly just grew like that, okay.

“That’s what she said,” Pidge coughed, trying not to choke on the water she just poured into her mouth.

“Oh, shut up,” Keith said, self-consciously tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “Point is, I think Lance has finally lost it.”

“I don’t know, man,” Pidge shrugged yet again, her voice raspy from the earlier coughing, “It wouldn’t be the worst idea.”

“What are you trying to say?” Keith asked, brandishing the ball menacingly at her.

“Maybe you should try it,” Pidge said simply with a smirk.

For the record, Keith threw the ball at Pidge, and if she hadn’t ducked it wouldn’t have bounced off the wall behind her and it definitely wouldn’t have hit Hunk directly in the face.

“Ow!” Hunk yelped, pulled from sleep and into the land of the living, “What the heck, guys?”

They both ignored him. Keith made a face. “Are you serious?”

Pidge shrugged again and it was starting to get on Keith’s nerves. “Pidge,” Keith really wanted the stress ball back, “What the actual fuck? Did the weed finally fry your big genius brain?”

“No, I’m just saying,” Pidge shrugged and looked away, “Maybe he’s got a point. Fake date him,” Pidge threw her hands into the air.

“Fake date who?” Hunk mumbled.

“Show Shiro what he’s missing out on,” Pidge continued, ignoring Hunk, “It pisses you off every time you see him and Allura hanging. Why don’t you give Shiro a taste of his own medicine,” Pidge looked back at Keith, a mischievous twinkle shining in her eyes, “Besides…”

“Besides what?” Keith _really_ wanted that stress ball back.

“You got that boy band prettiness,” Pidge said, pointing at Keith with a greasy finger. “Everyone would be jealous.”

“Boy band prettiness,” Keith repeated, a little bit horrified.

“Boy band prettiness,” Pidge confirmed with an emphasized shove of rice into her mouth.

With nothing left to say on the matter, Keith decided to leave the subject of fake dating Lance alone until he wasn’t well on his way to smoking himself into a weed-coma. And just like the BLACKPINK song that was embedded into the depths of Keith’s brain, he did as if it was his last.

* * *

Keith had been walking down the hall between classes, still contemplating over Pidge’s words, when his phone had let out a ping signalling a message. He fumbled through his pockets while trying to navigate his way through the throng of rushing students. Finally catching hold of his device, Keith pulled over to the side of the hallway, swiped it open to read:

 **Shiro** _today, 2:24pm_  
We need to talk.

Plain and simple, but still it had the very same effect from the last time they talked: dread.

Keith let out a sigh, just as he was about to close the phone and quite possibly toss it out the nearest window. Another message had pinged. It read:

 **forehead** _today, 2:27pm_  
What’s up chicken butt, did you think about it?

Keith stared at the screen for the briefest moment. The fact he was in the middle of a crowded hallway, as well as the soul-crushing dread from the inevitable talk with Shiro, seemed to evaporate from his mind. Out of habit, he scrolled up to find a message with an attached image of Lance giving him a wink with his tongue out, standing in front of the windows at The Beans of Marmora. Behind picture-Lance was Keith, looking extremely bored as he wrote down a customer’s name on a cup.

It didn’t occur to Keith that he had a kind of spacey, vapid-looking smile overtaking his face, as he stared down at his phone until he realized people had been shooting him weird looks. So, in return he glared back at them. They quickly looked away, minding their own business. Hastily, he shoved his neutral expression into his face; premature scowl line, tight-lipped and all that.

Just as he had returned to his normal pace, a hand clamped down to his shoulder.

“Keith,” a deep voice said, and holy crap, that’s Shiro.

 _Oh, fuck me,_ Keith thought frantically (in both dread and intense lust).

Keith froze, he twisted his head slowly almost _The Exorcist_ -like, and plastered a fake smile onto his frowning cheeks.

“Shiro. Hey,” he said awkwardly, almost like chewing rocks, “What’s up?”

“Keith,” Shiro repeated, pulling Keith into a quiet hall. “You need to stop avoiding me.”

“Avoiding you?” Keith said, mocking surprise. “I wasn’t…”

“There’s no need to lie, Keith,” Shiro said sternly, letting go of his arm, but Keith still felt rooted to the spot under Shiro’s piercing gaze.

Keith looked down to the ground, scuffling his battered red converse, he licked his lips and said, “I’m not avoiding you.”

Shiro sighed disappointedly. A vague look of concern washed over his face. “Keith, you shouldn’t shut yourself out for anyone, even me. It’s been nearly a month. I don’t tolerate being lied to—”

Keith’s phone chimed twice in his hand, Lance’s text tone sounding in the space between them. Keith glanced down to find another message from Lance.

 **forehead** _today, 2:34pm_  
Like you know

 **forehead** _today, 2:34pm_  
About the whole fake dating thing

“Keith?” Shiro said, “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Keith said, his eyes stuck to the words, _fake dating_.

He closed his eyes, and pretended this was happening to someone else, somewhere very far, far away. He cursed his luck. He cursed the fact that he was in love with someone, cursed the fact that said person was unattainable, and cursed that the fact he was so goddamn unlovable.

Pathetic.

So, yes, if anybody did ask—and someday, somebody would—this was when the lying started.

He took a deep breath, then let it out, “I’m...I’m going out with someone.”

Shiro raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Keith glared at him and scoffed. He tried not to feel deeply insulted.“Is that so hard to believe? That I’m seeing someone and not wallowing in your rejection?” Okay, that was not subtle, but alas.

Shiro cleared his throat, both of his eyebrows almost at his hairline at this point. “Well,” Shiro started, “I wasn’t going to say that, but—”

“But shut up, Shiro,” Keith cut him off, his cheeks warming, embarrassed of this entire situation. Keith wanted to cancel his subscription to existing on a physical and mortal plane.

“We haven’t been together for very long,” Keith explained, improvising quickly, “And we’re trying to keep it low-key, you know? He’s still kind of shy about it.”

Keith finished and clamped his mouth shut with a click of his teeth. He willed his face to remain neutral, which was rather difficult; it’s hard to keep his emotions in check with Shiro. Keith, who was naturally reticent in personality, was not in the habit of lying to Shiro, and for this reason all sorts of alarm bells were ringing in his head to quit. Quit now while he was still ahead. He was digging himself a grave and Keith wanted to laugh or die laughing.

There was a long, stretched silence in which Shiro stared, and stared, and stared. His expression was faltering from his usual brave soldier face to something a little less balanced and a little more awkward, which meant Shiro was confused, but still trying to be supportive somehow.

Then, after what seemed like 20 million years, Shiro’s face morphed into this big, Cheshire grin (which reminded him of Lance for some dumb reason), looking mere moments away from punching Keith’s arm with a ‘you sly dog, you!’ or something just as bad and in a fit of baseless optimism, Keith might actually sell this.

“Who is it?” Shiro asked excitedly, grabbing Keith’s arm. Abort, abort, abort!

Keith took one last glance at the text message, notification still evident on the screen and he committed.

“It’s Lance,” Keith blurted out, followed by an ugly sinking feeling in his stomach that settled uncomfortably. “Yeah… him.”

“That’s awesome, Keith,” Shiro said earnestly. “I’m really happy. I was hoping you guys would stop dancing around each other.”

“W-What?” Keith sputtered. “I mean! Yeah. We did. That. Yeah.”

“Also this seems like something Lance wouldn’t be shy about,” and there was the shoulder punch Keith knew Shiro was just waiting to throw, “You’re a real catch, Keith.”

And didn’t that one sting. 

Because Keith was a good catch, just not good enough for Shiro.

Keith forced out an awkward laugh, “Right, yeah.” He cleared his throat. Lance’s text sound chiming again. Keith glanced down at his phone, his heart beating a broken tattoo against his sternum. Keith needed to talk with Lance, and ASAP.

 **forehead** _today, 2:41pm_  
Keith

 **forehead** _today, 2:41pm_  
Stop ignoring me

“Um, Shiro,” Keith cleared his throat again, and bravely looked him in the eye, “I’ve gotta go.”

“Right, yeah,” Shiro nodded, “That’s Lance’s text tone, right?”

“Um, yeah,” Keith answered, kind of weirded out that Shiro knew that. Did Keith message Lance that much around Shiro that he’s memorized the sound of Lance’s text tone? How had Keith never noticed that?

“I’m glad we had this chat, Keith,” Shiro cuffed him on the shoulder again, “We’re cool?”

“Yeah,” Keith said without thinking (a theme for that day), “We’re cool.”

“Awesome,” Shiro started backing away toward the main hall, “Good luck with Lance!” Then he disappeared around the corner.

Fuck.

 **forehead** _today, 2:46pm_  
I can see that you’re reading these

 **forehead** _today, 2:46pm_  
Wtf keith

Keith sighed before responding:

 **mullet man** _today, 2:48pm_  
I’m not ignoring you chill please

 **forehead** _today, 2:48pm_  
I am totally chill

 **forehead** _today, 2:48pm_  
Chillest I’ve ever been

 **mullet man** _today, 2:50pm_  
Please shut up

 **mullet man** _today, 2:50pm_  
Meet me at BOM in 15

 **forehead** _today, 2:51pm_  
Sorry can’t I’m busy rn

 **mullet man** _today, 2:51pm_  
Really?

 **forehead** _today, 2:52pm_  
No

 **mullet man** _today, 2:52pm_  
Fuck you

 **mullet man** _today, 2:52pm_  
Be there or I’ll kill you

 **forehead** _today, 2:55pm_  
Don’t threaten me w a good time

 **mullet man** _today, 2:56pm_  
I literally cannot hate you more than I hate you right now

* * *

 

In Keith’s freshmen year of high school, one of his then classmates had presented him with an obnoxiously red t-shirt that had a saying in big white blocky words and a crown. It had read: KEEP CALM AND CARRY ON. If Keith still had possessed the semi-calmness and any sort of tolerance toward stupid jock-heads back then, Keith probably wouldn’t have split his knuckles into his Yohann Gutierrez's teeth.

He had a lot of issues.

The t-shirt would have been good motivation for his current panicked state.

It was no surprise that they ended up in the coffee shop, but what was surprising was that Keith was the one who instigated the meeting. Keith had his mouth set in a determined line, his hands clasped so tightly on top of the table, that his knuckles had turned white under the strain. Keith watched Lance sip on an abomination of a frappuccino (courtesy of Keith’s employee discount).

“Okay, usually this is your line which makes me feel really weird,” Lance started, licking stray frappuccino off his lips, “But you need to chill out, dude.”

Keith sighed, a frustrated noise not suited for the cozy interior of the quiet coffee house. Keith could not keep calm and carry on.

Lance sighed back, leaning his elbow onto the table, “Are you going to tell me at all why you’ve demanded to see me, and I quote, ASAP?”

Keith’s lips pressed tighter against each other. ”I saw Shiro today.”

“Ouch,” Lance winced.

“Yeah, fucking ouch,” Keith spat.

“Did you talk to him?”

“Yeah and I fucking told him we were dating,” Keith pressed the heels of his palms into the sockets of his eyes.

Lance spat out the frappuccino, spraying Keith with sugary liquid, only adding fuel to the fire that was Keith’s rage. “You mcfriggin’ what?” Lance pressed a napkin to his face.

“Yeah,” Keith pulled his hands away, putting them back on the table.

“Weren’t you against this?” Lance said, cocking his head to the side.

“I mean, yeah,” Keith looked away, a poster for half-price hot yoga on the board beside him, “But then I saw Shiro in his stupid tight shirts and hot yoga pants—”

“Bless,” Lance interjected.

Keith spared Lance a look before continuing, “I saw him and you were texting me and I just panicked.” 

“That must have been quite a show,” Lance mused.

“Yeah,” Keith ran a hand through his hair, “It was a disaster.”

“You have three default settings: hostile, confused, and professional. Last one is quite rare, but nevertheless still an option. I’ve never seen you panic before.”

“That’s because when I’m around you I’m usually in the hostile setting,” Keith shot back, more out of habit than anything else.

“Okay, ouch,” Lance said, no real hurt in his voice. “Hurtful.”

“You make it too easy, Lance,” Keith rolled his eyes, “But I told Shiro we’re dating so we need to figure this out now.”

“Easy peasy,” Lance said, stretching his arms, “I’m more worried about you though. Keith, you’re no Natalie Portman. You suck at acting.”

“Okay and you’re no Meryl Streep yourself,” Keith muttered.

“How dare—!” Lance shook his head, “You know what, I’m just gonna ignore what you just said; pretend you didn’t even say that.” Keith felt like if he rolled his eyes any harder they’d roll into the back of his head.

“You have the emotional range of a cardboard box,” Lance said, narrowing his eyes. “Sometimes, I think your face is paralyzed in that cute little scowl you do all the time.”

“My face is just like that,” Keith grumbled halfheartedly, a smile worming its way onto his face. Lance may not have been the guy Keith wanted to call him cute...but Lance thought his scowl was _cute_.  

It just felt nice to be called cute! For the record!

“Ha!” Lance shot, “Got you to laugh, I win.”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Keith shook his head, barely trying to hide his smile.

“Look, Keith this whole fake dating thing doesn’t have to be complicated,” Lance shrugged, “So we’re fake dating now, that’s easy. We just act like we do now except we’ll hold hands and you’ll let me call you cute pet names all the time.”

“No, I won’t,” Keith crossed his arms.

“Starting now,” Lance said with a smirk, and then added a beat later, “babe.”

“I hate you,” Keith hissed, non-violently. Despite that, his cheeks turned pink from the name.

“No, you don’t,” Lance said, chuckling. “We’re dating, you’re supposed to like me now.”

“Okay, we’re breaking up,” Keith pulled out his phone, “I’m telling Shiro.”

“Oh my god, I take it back,” Lance shot across the table, grabbing for Keith’s phone, “I need this to get Allura.”

“You’re a leech.” Keith let Lance take his phone.

“But now I’m your leech,” Lance teased looking down at Keith’s phone, “Hey, Keith?”

“Yeah?”

“Does Shiro follow you on Instagram?” Lance was still looking down at Keith’s phone.

“I mean, yeah,” Keith shrugged, “I never really post though.”

"Well, we should post dumb couple-y pictures. It’s, like, the easiest way to fake date.” Lance finally looked up, trying to gauge Keith’s reaction.

Keith grimaced. “I don’t look good in photos.”

"Oh boy, let me take at least 43 hours explaining how wrong you are,” Lance rushed out.

“Only 43 hours?” Keith teased to cover up the blush blooming up his cheekbones, “Lance, I’m disappointed in you.”

“Sorry, you’re hot, but you’re no Shiro,” Lance shrugged, his ears pink.

“How can you say that with a straight face?”

“Not my fault you got a rockin’ body and a pretty face,” Lance shrugged. “I mean, you don’t find me attractive too?”

Keith sputtered for a moment, feeling his face heat, “I mean, sure, you’re, like, conventionally attractive or whatever. Nice brown skin and baby blues and all that.”

Lance blinked, seemingly shocked for a moment, “That is the nicest thing you have ever told me… like ever,” He coughed. “I better have nice skin. Korean skincare isn’t cheap.”

“I’m Korean.”

“Yeah and I’ve never seen nicer skin.”

“I haven’t bought moisturizer ever in my life.”

“And that’s a fucking travesty,” Lance said bitterly. He pulled out Keith’s phone, somehow knowing his passcode. “We need filters. I think the doggy one would be cute.”

“That’s the whitest filter, Lance,”

“Yeah, but it’s also very cute and I’d love to see you scowling with cute puppy ears,” Lance opened Keith’s barely used snapchat app, before he turned to capture them both in a selfie. Lance shoved the phone back in Keith’s face, ‘Coffee with the bae <3’ captioned along the bottom of the selfie Lance took, “It’s going on your story, bye.”

“Lance,” Keith sighed, resigned as he watched Lance post the selfie, “I would never willingly say ‘bae’ let alone type it.”

“Well, now we’re public,” Lance passed Keith his phone back, “Easy peasy.”

“Easy peasy,” Keith repeated, with a large intake of breath, he let it out tiredly as he slumped into his chair.

“Keith,” Lance started, reaching over to grab Keith’s hand, rubbing his knuckles with his thumb. “We’ve got this. You’ll see. After like a month, tops, Shiro will be begging for you back. I promise.”

Keith sighed, a steading warmth blooming in his chest with every pass of Lance’s thumb, “Okay.”

Lance smiled. White teeth peeking out, biting the bottom of his lips.

“Okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter should be out by next Friday. We want to do weekly updates :)))
> 
> Karlee:  
> [Personal Tumblr](https://sunscreams.tumblr.com/)  
> [Voltron Tumblr](https://klancend.tumblr.com/)  
> Dee:  
> [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/deadkid_draws/)  
> [Tumblr](https://vampingqueen.tumblr.com/)  
> 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith digs himself a deeper grave, but somehow doesn't feel that bad about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you and bless you, [Jocc.](https://galaxy-gayrrison.tumblr.com)

“Um,” Keith started, drumming his fingers on his desk, “how are you?”

On screen, Acxa rolled her pixelated eyes. “Fine,” she sighed as she tugged the hair tie that held her bun in place, letting loose the short purple hair that rested slightly above her shoulders. She shrugged off her blazer with a fluid shoulder roll, apparently just back from class. “How’s art school?”

“Artsy,” he answered simply.

She pursed her lips, seemingly unimpressed with Keith’s smart-ass response.“What did I even expect,” Acxa muttered in a tone Keith imagined had tasted something like tart—sour—on the tongue.  That being said, with Acxa, it was kind of hard to tell what she was feeling at any given time. “Is that all I’m going to get after a month of radio silence?”

“It’s not my fault your school’s network system blew up,” Keith defended. “Plus, you live in the armpit of America.”

“New Jersey is quite different than Texas,” Acxa agreed sarcastically. “Not any different from New York, though,” she quipped sending Keith a smirk.

“Go Yankees,” Keith said dryly, feeling some of his dark mood lift off his shoulders.

That cracked a smile from her too, unfortunately not the sweet relenting one Keith was used to when they had dated. God, those were the days.

“Skype isn’t the only medium of modern communication, you know?” Acxa crossed her arms, a teasing smirk on her lips. “You never called, never texted, hell, you could’ve even written a letter—I’m starting to think you don’t even have my number.”

“You’re speed dial number two,” Keith smiled feebly.

“Then you should quit treating your phone like an instrument of the devil,” Acxa said, raising an eyebrow.

After a few beats of borderline uncomfortable silence, the smile slid off Acxa’s face before she said, “Shiro called me the other day.” She cleared her throat, “He said he’s worried about you.”

Acxa studied Keith for a few beats, an inscrutable look on her face, “This must be pretty serious if he’s calling someone he barely even knows.”

“He knows you,” Keith defended weakly as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Keith,” Acxa said, sending him a ‘don’t give me that bullshit’ look, “I’m your ex-girlfriend, not his.”

“I’d hope not,” Keith mumbled, trying not to feel like he was getting chastised, “Talk about a bro-code violation.”

“Keith, this is not the time to suddenly become funny,” Acxa sent him a pixelated scowl, “What is wrong with you?”

Keith glared at the screen, “Nothing, Acxa, God.” Keith honestly did not want to explain what happened between him and Shiro. He didn’t want to tell her about his botched confession, he didn’t want to tell her about the horrible and embarrassing weeks after, and he certainly didn’t want to tell her about fake dating Lance.

Acxa let out a long, loud sigh, “If you’re worried about me judging you for your sad confession to Shiro, I already did. Shiro told me about it.”

“Acxa,” Keith didn’t whine; don’t believe a thing Acxa says.

“C’mon, Keith,” Acxa rolled her eyes, “It’s not that bad. He could be shunning you right now and he’s definitely not doing that.”

“Acxa,” Keith said more firmly this time, “not helping.” Thinking about ‘what if’s would only cause Keith to spiral and it was only noon; he had a whole day that he couldn’t waste away worrying.

“At least he’s good with communication,” Acxa tsk-ed, “This is getting a little too cliché, don’t you think?”

“Stop prying,” Keith scrunched his nose.

“I’m not prying, I’m trying to help you get your shit together.”

“Ugh,” Keith rolled his eyes, “No wonder we broke up.”

“We broke up because you’re a big old homo,” Acxa said, uncrossing her arms and grabbing for her phone out of frame. She continued, “Staring at other boys’ butts while we went on dates doesn’t make it any easier to refute.”

Keith sighed, letting himself relax. “Can’t contain it,” he shrugged. “At least I was getting some.”

“Boo, you whore,” Acxa teased, her voice drier than the Sahara as she continued to scroll through her phone. Then as if a light had lit up in her eyes, “Speaking of boys, looks like you’ve finally settled down on someone?”

“What do you mean?”

“Keith, why didn’t you tell me have a boyfriend?” Acxa looked up from her phone, eyes twinkling. “Dish.”

“No one says that anymore,” Keith said, trying to contain the growing panic. Keith quickly whipped out his phone, texting Lance frantically.

**mullet man** _today, 12:06pm_  
Do other people have to know? 

**forehead** _today, 12:07pm_  
Know what? 

**forehead** _today, 12:07pm_  
Gonna have to be a little more specific 

“Who’re you texting?” Acxa asked, Keith glanced up at her before turning back to his phone.

**mullet man** _today, 12:07pm_  
The dating thing 

**mullet man** _today, 12:07pm_  
Does everyone have to know 

**forehead** _today, 12:08pm_  
if we want this to be believable we need to tell everyone we’re dating 

“Keith,” Acxa pressed, “Who are you texting?”

**mullet man** _today, 12:09pm_  
Even if they live in say Jersey??? 

**forehead** today, 12:09pm  
Oddly specific 

**forehead** _today, 12:09pm_  
But yea 

“Oh my god,” Keith groaned.

“Keith!” Axca demanded his attention, “Don’t ignore me.”

“Fucking—” Keith muttered, “I’m texting Lance.”

“Is that your guy?” Acxa leaned forward, her pixelated face filling the screen.

Keith glanced back down at his phone.  _ If we want this to be believable we need to tell everyone we’re dating.  _ Keith sighed, “Yeah.” He looked back up at the screen, “This is him.”

“You’re blushing,” Acxa squealed, which by the way, doesn’t ever happen. Ever. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms smugly across her chest. “Isn’t that the guy you keep bitching about?”

“Hey–!”

“Not gonna lie, didn’t expect it, but now that I think about it,” Acxa said, putting a finger on her lip. “It kind of makes sense.”

“Makes sense?”

“You and Lance,” Acxa said, connecting her pointer fingers, “makes sense.”

“Yeah, okay, I heard you,” Keith said, “What do you mean we ‘make sense’?”

Acxa shrugged, “It just seems like you balance each other out.”

* * *

“Do you really think this is a good idea?” Pidge asked, chin propped by her hand. A coffee sat in front of her, black like the pit of Satan’s soul. It was the only thing Pidge could drink; she said she couldn’t handle the sugar.

Keith glared at her over the newly unboxed coffee tins he was trying to stack, knowing she was talking about the whole fake dating thing. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

In the wake of what Keith’s lack of linguistic ingenuity had dubbed as the ‘Shiro Incident’, Keith had entered some kind emotional fugue state in which he had alternated between being mean and doing whatever he was asked to do in strange obedience or just…trying to escape the reality of the situation.

Basically, Keith was pissier than usual.

“Not that I care or anything,” Pidge said and then took the poison up to her lips. Keith almost gagged at the sight. She sipped, and let out a huge sigh in appreciation. “Good shit.”

“Shit is right,” Keith said with a grimace. “Don’t know how you can stand it…”

“Aww,” Pidge said, smile flitting on her lips. “You used to drink coffee black until Lance tricked you by slowly spiking your coffee with sugar. Now you’re broken?”

“Whatever, Pidge,” Keith aggressively shoved the coffee tin into the shelf. “Black coffee sucks anyways.”

“Foo-foo coffee,” Pidge said with a shrug, “sucks even more.”

“That’s a terrible name,” Keith said.

“What’s a terrible name?” A painfully familiar voice piped up from the other side of the counter. Keith turned, knowing exactly who would be standing there, but hoping he’d be wrong.

Shiro stood, waiting by the register in all his muscled glory; his sleeveless hoodie showing his strong biceps and his collarbones clearly on display. Keith’s eyes stuck on them, desperate for a taste.

“Oof,” Pidge muttered and Keith felt his face warm, trying to look anywhere else.

“Sh–Shiro!” Keith stuttered, nearly dropping a coffee tin. “I… Hey, what are you doing here?”

“Came to pick up some coffee,” Shiro said. “BOM has the best coffee and my favorite employee happens to be on his shift.”

Keith blushed. Shiro smiling at him and calling him  _ his favourite employee _ like Keith was his boyfriend or something, was  _ not _ helping his blood pressure one bit. Keith tried to force down the butterflies in his chest.

Keith leaned over the counter to whisper,“The coffee here tastes like cat piss and the employees aren’t much better.”

Pidge snorted unattractively and Shiro let out an angelic huff of laughter. Keith ducked down when he saw Kolivan narrow his eyes at him.

“Uh, I mean, I don’t drink the coffee, myself, but The Bean of Marmora sure is great!” Keith plastered a fake smile onto his face and used his fakest, most sarcastic customer service voice imaginable. Both Shiro and Pidge lost it at that one, both breaking out into loud, guffaws.

Kolivan rolled his eyes good-naturedly, before waking into the back room.

Keith let out a breath. “But for real,” he turned to look at Shiro, “What’s up?”

“I don’t have an ulterior motive,” Shiro shrugged, “I just needed some coffee.”

Both Pidge and Keith gave Shiro dry, disbelieving looks.

Shrio sighed, “Alright, I actually came to ask if you’d be up for going to the gym after your shift?” He shrugged, “I kinda miss having you to spot me.”

“You miss me?” Keith couldn’t stop the words from leaving his lips, but as soon as they did, he wanted to take them back. God, how embarrassing. 

But Shiro just shrugged, “Yeah, you’re a good workout buddy, Keith.”

Keith’s heart simultaneously soared and ached at that. Because Shiro  _ missed him _ . That has to mean that Shiro has some sort of feelings for him. However, the longer Keith listened to what Shiro said, the more Keith realized he was nothing more than a brother to him.

That he never really would be more than a brother to him. 

And as much as Keith wanted to say yes; to spend hours in close proximity to Shiro and his strong jaw, and his sculpted cheekbones, and his wide shoulders and his slender hips and his marvelous ass—

Keith also knew that every smile, every friendly shoulder pat, every, “One more lap, Keith,” would be a dagger straight into his heart.

So, Keith rubbed the back of his neck, looking away as he did. “I’m actually busy tonight,” Keith lied.

“Oh,” Shiro said, “With Lance?”

And Keith didn’t know what else to say so he said, “Yeah, with Lance.” And because Keith loved to dig himself his own grave, he added, “Lance has this whole date planned, I guess.”

“Oh, that’s sweet,” Shiro said.

“Yeah,” Keith cleared his throat and tried not to make eye contact with either Pidge (who knew the truth) nor Shiro (who was good at picking up lies). Keith wiped his sweaty palms onto his apron, “I’m pretty excited.”

“Excited, hey?” Pidge repeated, “Look more nervous than excited.”

“Awe, c’mon, Pidge,” Shiro bumped Pidge’s shoulder gently, “Give him a break. When was the last time Keith went on a date?”

“Yeah, Keith, when was that?” Pidge narrowed her eyes, looking at Keith.

Keith opened his mouth to say something—anything—when the door to the coffee shop opened, the tiny bell above the door chiming politely, as none other than Lance fucking McClain walked in.

“Lance?” Keith exclaimed.

“Keith!” Lance’s eyes scanned the scene quickly. His eyes met Keith’s only for a moment before he was striding across the cafe and planting a chaste kiss to the corner of Keith’s mouth. “Hey, babe, try not to look too shocked,” Lance chuckled a bit, straightening the collar of Keith’s perfectly fine shirt.

“We just—We don’t—” Keith huffed.

“I know how you feel about PDA,” Lance soothed, “But you look so cute in your little barista uniform, I couldn’t resist.”

“Gay,” Pidge commented and shit, Keith forgot there were other people around.  

Keith cleared his throat. “So, Lance,” he started, having to look away, “Are you going to tell me where we’re going for our surprise date tonight?”

Lance stared at Keith for a few moments, his face frozen in a smile. Lance cleared his throat lightly before saying, “It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, now would it?”

Keith felt himself relax, relieved that Lance was willing—and able—to play along. “When does your shift end?” Lance tilted his head as he asked the question.

Keith glanced at the small digital clock on the bottom of the register. “In about forty minutes,” Keith answered.

Lance’s smile grew, “Cool. Make me my regular and I’ll wait for you until the end of your shift?”

“Okay,” Keith grabbed a frappuccino cup.

“Whipped,” Pidge coughed and then fist-bumped Shiro.

“What did you just say?” Keith said with narrowed eyes.

“Nothing, I’m allergic to the air in here,” Pidge shrugged and picked up her backpack off the floor, “Too many gays. Later homos.” She flicked a two-fingered salute in Lance’s direction before she left the cafe.

Keith turned his attention back to Shiro as he made Lance’s drink, “So, did you come here for coffee or was this just a social hour.”

Shiro glanced up at the chalkboard menu, and winced, “Looking at those prices, this was a social call.” Shiro nodded at Lance, “You guys have fun on your date. I’m gonna see if Allura’s free for hot yoga.”

“Gross,” Lance mumbled.

“See you guys,” Shiro waved, “Keith let me know if you change your mind about the gym.”

“Right,” Keith called back, trying not to show how happy those words made him.

Just after the door shut behind Shiro, Lance quipped, “Thanks for no warning on that one. You’re lucky I’m the male, Cuban version of Meryl Streep.”

“Okay, thank you for covering for me,” Keith started, “But you are no Meryl Streep.”

“Please,” Lance rolled his eyes with his whole body, “Meryl is  _ quaking _ right now.”

Keith sent Lance an unamused look, “She’s probably bathing in money, shut up. She’s perfectly fine.”

“Gross,” Lance sniffed. “You actually wanna do a date tonight though? Like go somewhere cute and take some pics for my Instagram?”

Keith popped the lid onto Lance’s frappe, “Do we have to?”

“I mean,” Lance cleared his throat, “It is technically our first public date and if this was a real relationship, everyone in the world would know about it. So, um, yeah. We have to do it.”

Keith sighed, “Okay, but take me home so I can change first?”

Lance’s smile was blinding, “Yeah, sure, okay.”

* * *

Keith had trouble keeping up with Lance’s long strides (curse those legs, he wasn’t even that tall) and almost tripped about five times before he gave up. He planted his feet on the ground, a frown maring his features, as he took a deep breath and yelled, “Where are we going!?”

Lance didn’t even bother to stop walking. “You’ll see.”

“Oh my God,” Keith muttered, jogging lightly to reach him.

Lance, the asshole, started whistling. “Tired?”

“Fucking slow down,” Keith huffed, “You’re like 90% legs.”

Lance, bless him, finally slowed down, “Sorry, just excited.”

“Why won’t you tell me where we’re going?” Keith asked exasperatedly. “I’m just following you blindly.”

“It’s supposed to be a surprise like you said!” Lance said with a laugh, ruffling Keith’s wind mussed hair. Keith pretended he did not enjoy that, so he swatted Lance’s arm away. Keith pouted at him.

“This better be good,” Keith said testily, tucking his arms around himself to brace against the chilly wind. “Unless you’re a recently paroled psychopath and I need to contact the authorities, I’m going to leave.”

“First month’s of parole is always the toughest,” Lance joked, “Nah, man. I think the authorities are scared of you, so I doubt they’ll come for me.”

“Funny,” Keith deadpanned.

“Here we are!” Lance yelled, gesturing wildly.

Keith stopped and stared, he looked at Lance with a dry look. “The boardwalk?”

The boardwalk was such a cliche date place, and if Keith hadn’t been fake dating  _ Lance _ of all people, he definitely wouldn’t be caught dead down here. Bracketed on one side by the ocean, and rows of game booths and stalls selling cheap tourist-y items and wildly overpriced carnival foods on the other, the boardwalk was exactly the type of thing that Lance would think was both fun and romantic.

For Keith, huge crowds of people and spending an entire “date” with Lance felt like an imminent death sentence—comparable only to stage three terminal brain cancer or a mortally wounding gun shot ... to the face.

Lance seemingly able to read Keith’s mind, was offended by this. “You don’t like it?”

Keith grimaced. “I’ve never been here. It’s not really my thing?”

“What do you mean it isn’t really your thing?”

“This is for kids!” Keith said with a groan.

“And? We’re kids!”

“No, no we’re not,” Keith said, “I grew up, Lance. So should you.”

“Who says so? We can have fun! Grow back down again!” Lance exclaimed. “I say we let loose out inner child.  _ You  _ can go back to being a big boring adult who makes big boring adult decisions, after this date is over.”

“What are you? Twelve?” Keith asked sarcastically. 

“On a scale of one to ten? Yes,” Lance said with a wink. “Let’s go!” Lance promptly grabbed Keith’s hand tightly, and started towards the entrance. Keith wasn’t sure if it was his hand or Lance’s that was sweating, but he found himself not really minding so much as Lance’s laughter danced in the wind.

* * *

“So,” Lance started as they walked side-by-side down the boardwalk, “what’s your favourite animal?”

“Did you just seriously ask me that?” Keith shot Lance an unimpressed look.

Lance rolled his eyes, “Yeah.”

“Oh my god,” Keith rolled his eyes back, “I’m not five. I don’t have a favourite animal.”

“Oh please,” Lance glanced at Keith, “Everyone has a favourite animal.”

“Yeah, everyone under ten,” Keith groused.

“Oh my god, Keith,” Lance stopped them, pulling Keith to the side, out of the way of the flow of foot traffic. “Look, we’re supposed to be kids tonight, remember? You agreed.” Lance stared at Keith, his eyes searching for something that Keith couldn’t even begin to understand. Finally Lance sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Just, play along, would you?”

Keith crossed his arms and looked away. He tsked and looked back. “I guess,”  Keith shrugged, letting his arms flop down, “I don’t know, I guess I like hippos.”

Slowly, as if he couldn’t believe what he’d heard, a smile broke over Lance’s face, his slumped form straightening as it bloomed. “A hippo?”

Keith shrugged. “Yeah,” he said, but came out more defensive then he meant it, “Hippos are badass. They’re responsible for almost 3,000 human deaths a year.”

Lance let out a surprised laugh and shook his head. “I love that, that’s the fact you know about hippos.”

“Well—” Keith felt his face warm, but didn’t really know where to go with that statement, so he redirected, “What’s your favourite animal?”

Lance’s smile grew into a Cheshire grin, “A shark.”

Keith rolled his eyes, “Of course it is.”

“Hey,” Lance crossed his arms, smile still on his face, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Keith shook his head, “just seems awfully cliche. I mean, you grew up in a coastal city, you love the beach, and you probably know how to surf.”

Lance made an offended noise.

“Do you have a shark tooth necklace?” Keith teased some more.

“Okay, I want Adult Keith back,” Lance crossed his arms, the smile off his face, but the mirth still twinkling in his eyes. “He’s not nearly as mean.”

Keith rolled his eyes, “I don’t know what you mean. Adult Keith is way worse to you than this.”

“Whatever,” Lance crosses his arms and starts walking again. “Sharks are cool. They’re apex predators.”

* * *

“Keith, how do you think this scarf looks on me?” Lance asked, a horrible hand-sewn, hand sequined, beach hobo scarf wrapped half-heartedly around his neck and a pair of large sunglasses perched on his nose.

Keith barely stopped the snort that was about to escape him. “Yeah, totally chic.”

Lance pulled the glasses down his nose and glanced over the top, “Did you just say chic?”

Keith let a smile curl over his lips as he shrugged one shoulder. Keith turned to face Lance, putting down the yellow, red and orange lanyard he was looking at. “You look like a beach hobo.”

Lance pushed the sunglasses back up his nose. “Chic,” he quipped before disappearing around the corner of an aisle. Keith sighed and followed.

Lance was placing the scarf back on its rack, humming under his breath and bobbing his head to the soft music playing in the open front shop. When he saw Keith, his eyes lit up and he started singing the lyrics.

“ _ You can dance _ ,” Lance took a step forward, pointing at Keith as he did, a ridiculous performing expression on his face. “ _ You can jive _ ,” Lance took Keith’s hand in his. “ _ Having the time of your life, _ ” Lance tried to spin Keith, but Keith wasn’t having any of that.

“Awe, c’mon, Keith,” Lance whined. “This is ABBA, dance with me.”

“No, Lance, I—” Keith cut himself off. “That’s embarrassing.”

“No it’s not, it’s fun,” Lance started walking backwards, moving his shoulders with the beat. “C’mon.”

Keith sighed and followed, feeling his cheeks warm as he did.

Lance grabbed a bottle of sunscreen off a random shelf and turned to Keith, using the bottle as a microphone. “ _ Friday night and the lights are low ... Lookin out for a place to go,” _ Lance leaned dramatically on the side of the shelf as he dipped on the ‘go’.

“ _ Where they play the right music, _ ” Lance tossed the sunscreen at Keith, who then placed it back on the shelf. “ _ Getting into swing / You’d come to look for a king, _ ” Lance did a poor impression of Elvis before he turned completely away from Keith and dashed to the front of the shop.

There was a couple of ladies sitting at a sun-bleached bistro table outside playing bridge, singing along to each other as they played. They looked up when they saw Lance, almost belting at this point, trying desperately to end Keith’s life.

“ _ Anybody could be that guy / Night is young and the music’s high,”  _ Lance smoothed his hand into the air, going cross-eyed, making the ladies giggle and titter as they watched him.

Lance turned back to Keith, suddenly serious and stone faced, “ _ With a little rock music / Everything is fine / You’re in the mood for a dance.” _

He then made seductive shoulder roll, before turning to the ladies, holding a hand out to the both of them. “ _ And when you get the chance,” _ Lance sang as the ladies accepted his hand.

“ _ You are the Dancing Queen / Young and sweet / Only seventeen,” _ Lance and the old ladies sang together. Each lady twirling around one of Lance’s fingers, doing a sweet bopping dance as they went.

Keith stifled his laughter with a hand. He hid his smile and made sure there was no way in hell Lance saw him actually enjoying the music. His foot betrayed him, however, tapping along to the infectious a beat. Lance looked up to him and their eyes met; a mischievous glint twinkled in his eyes. Keith sent him a warning look, knowing what was about to come and vehemently shook his head when Lance started shimmying towards him.

“No, nope, no way,” Keith said, swatting away Lance’s hands. “I don’t dance.”

“Bullshit, everyone can dance,” Lance said, finally taking a hold of Keith’s hand. “You just gotta move with the music. Rhythm is in your soul you just have to find one that works.”

“That’s...so lame,” Keith said, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, and so are you.” Lance shook their clasped hands lightly, “Just—we’re having fun. Don’t think about it, just move.”

“ _ You can dance / You can jive / Having the time of your life,” _ Lance sang directly to him, and Keith felt his heart stutter in his chest and his shoulders unclench and his feet started to move.

Lance’s smile was blinding as he pulled Keith onto the impromptu dance floor. “There you go!” He exclaimed as Keith awkwardly twirled Lance. A laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep inside of Keith and suddenly he was having fun.

Keith was having fun, dancing and singing along to ABBA with two very nice old ladies, and Lance McClain, of all people, on a boardwalk on a Wednesday evening.

Keith was having fun.

* * *

“You know, they used to call me the Sharpshooter in high school,” Lance bragged for some reason.

Keith let out an amused snort, “Why? As if you played any sports. You were probably in the AV Club or something equally nerdy.”

“Okay, ouch,” Lance started, “And also AV Club is not nerdy. AV Club is totally fun!”

“So you were in the AV Club,” Keith bumped Lance with his shoulder.

“Okay, yeah, I was in the AV Club, but that’s not the point,” Lance waved his hands in the air, dismissing all of Keith’s comments. “I have wicked aim.”

“Really,” Keith deadpanned, “I find that hard to believe considering you managed to miss the trash can at BOM last week from two feet away.”

“Okay, I wasn’t trying then,” Lance crossed his arms, “What I’m trying to say is that I’m gonna play that water shooting game up there and I’m gonna win one of the top prizes.”

“So, you’re gonna drop $5 to play that stupid game to win a $2 stuffed animal?” Keith deadpanned.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m gonna do, because I love wasting money,” Lance quipped, pulling out his wallet and slapping a five dollar bill onto the counter. The clerk barely blinked, motioning for Lance to take a seat and start shooting whenever ready. “The price to pay for self-esteem.”

Keith stood about a foot behind Lance. “Watch and weep, Mullet,” Lance said before turning his full attention onto the game.

“It’s ‘read it and weep’, loser,” Keith quipped half-heartedly, watching as Lance’s stream of water never strayed from the bullseye, even after it started moving.

Now, of course, Keith would  _ never _ admit this out loud where anyone—especially  _ Lance _ —could hear him, but Keith was honestly pretty impressed. Lance was really good at this shitty carnival game. His aim was true, and his hand was steady and soon the balloon over the target was full, almost to bursting.

“Congratulations, you get your pick of the top prize,” the clerk gestured to a row of stuffed animals.

“The red hippo,” Lance nodded and the clerk got it down, handing it over immediately.

“Lance, there was a shark up there. Why’d you get the hippo?” Keith crossed his arms across his chest.

“Dumbass,” Lance shoved the hippo into Keith’s chest, “It’s for you.”

Okay, so let us take a minute here.

Because Keith’s dumbass heart sure as hell needed it.

Lance spent $5 to play a dumb carnival game, that he was really, really,  _ really _ fucking good at, only to choose a prize for Keith.

Now, sure, it’s not the most romantic gesture ever, but damn.

Keith needed a fucking moment.

“Why?” Keith felt like he couldn’t breathe.

Lance shrugged a shoulder, a half-smile forming on his face, “It’ll make for a cute Instagram picture.”

Keith rolled his eyes, trying not to let that get to him, “Right. It’s all about the likes, ain’t it?”

“Of course,” Lance said. “But also…” he paused, biting his lip and looking a little nervous, “I wanted to.”

And Keith’s heart needed another minute.

* * *

Lance was pulling Keith across the wooden ground, nearly crashing into several people as he went; a woman carting along what seemed like an army of children glared at them as Lance almost took out a few kids. Keith threw an apology over his shoulder, only to suddenly collide against Lance’s broad back, letting out an oof. He cradled his nose, slightly red from hitting Lance’s shoulder.

“What the hell, Lance?” Lance stood silent for a few beats, looking at something. “Lance, seriously—” Keith cut himself off as he peered over Lance’s shoulder, seeing Shiro and Allura walking together out of a Pinkberry a few stalls down. “Shit,” Keith hissed and felt himself duck back behind Lance.

“They look like they’re together,” Lance said, mostly to himself.

Keith peeked again and his heart squeezed painfully in his chest. Shiro and Allura were leaning into each other, their faces close together as Allura spoke. Suddenly, they were both laughing and Shiro’s arm went around her middle to steady her.

Keith looked away.

“Fuck, Keith, what do we do?” Lance turned around, his blue eyes wide as he stared at Keith.

Keith peeked over at them, hoping they would turn and go the other way. But Keith had no such luck as the happy couple started in their direction. “Fucking—” Keith pulled himself back to Lance, feeling something angry and black curl in the pit of his stomach, “Hold my hand, dipshit.”

“Okay, rude,” Lance said, but reached for Keith’s hand nonetheless.

“Now, look like you’re having fun,” Keith rushed out as both Shiro and Allura quickly closed in on where Lance and Keith were standing.

Lance rolled his eyes, “Kinda hard to have fun when my date is acting like a stick in the mud.”

Keith sighed to center himself and said goodbye to his dignity. “You want fun? I’ll give you fun,” Keith tried to warn Lance, but it came out as more of a threat.

“What—” Lance started, but Keith was leaning into Lance, pressing the stuffed hippo into his chest, a large smile taking over his face.

“Play along, asshole,” Keith whispered, nose almost touching Lance’s, his large smile still on his face.

Lance’s face was stunned; his eyes wide, his mouth stuck open, and a dark flush high on his cheeks.

“Hey,” Shiro exclaimed, “Lance, Keith.” Shiro and Allura stopped just a few feet away.

Keith turned to them, staying close to Lance’s chest, keeping their fingers entwined. “Hey, guys,” Keith kept the smile on his face and watched Shiro’s very carefully. “You guys just get back from the gym?”

“Yeah,” Allura nodded, her eyes flicking between Lance and Keith before she sent a meaningful look Lance’s way. Keith didn’t know what  _ that _ meant, but the half-frown on Shiro’s face was making Keith very happy.

After a few silent beats, Allura cleared her throat, “We, um, we just finished hot yoga.”

“Jay was handing out Pinkberry coupons today,” Shiro added, lifting his yogurt bowl. “You guys look like you’re having fun.”

“Yeah,” Keith pressed even closer to Lance, squeezing his hand as he did so. “This was Lance’s surprise date.”

“Surprise,” Lance said, supremely awkwardly, his smile extremely shaky.

“Yeah…” Shiro trailed off, “This doesn’t really seem like your scene, Keith.”

Keith’s heart jumped. Shiro seemed so jealous! Keith honestly couldn’t believe this was actually working; that Lance’s fake dating plan was actually working!

Keith just shrugged, “I don’t know,” then he looked up at Lance, who looked like he was about to die. “Lance just put some much work into surprising me, I just want to give it a chance.” Lance’s face softened, his smile becoming a little more genuine, his eyes less panicked.

“Plus,” Keith looked back at Shiro and Allura, “I’m actually having fun, so far.”

Shiro’s face melted into something a little warmer, “Looks like Lance knows you pretty well then.”

Keith looked up at Lance again, “Seems like.”

Keith stared at Lance for a few beats, suddenly caught on the way Lance was smiling at him. There was this soft, fond look in his eyes, and a delicate, pink blush hiding under his bronze skin and coffee coloured freckles. The curve of his mouth matched the curve of his long eyelashes. Even his thin eyebrows and large forehead were shaped in a way that seemed gentle and affectionate.

Allura chuckled lightly, breaking Keith out of his staring. “We’ll leave you two to your date,” she sent another meaningful look Lance’s way. “We’re still on for lunch tomorrow?”

Lance cleared his throat, “Um, yeah.”

It seemed like the plan was working for Lance, too.

Keith didn’t know why that made him so angry.

* * *

Somehow after that encounter, the mood shifted into something tense. It was as if the day’s events had evaporated into air of non-existence. They stayed at least a meter apart. Lance with his hands shoved into his pockets. Keith with his arms crossed over his chest, trying to ignore that dull throbbing inside of him. The red hippo hung loosely from one hand, swinging with every movement.

“The view’s pretty here,” Lance commented, stopping by the rails. His eyelashes fluttered, opening and reopening like a blossoming flower. Keith just couldn’t help but stare. The delicate hairs of his eyelashes had responded to the salty air as Lance himself just stared into the rhythmic waves that crashed upon white sands.

Keith hugged the red hippo. It let out a small squeak from the pressure. He leaned against the rails, arms digging against splintering wood. “It is… I’ve never seen the ocean before.”

Waves of aquamarine light fell against the shore like splattering blue paint against a blank canvas. It felt like the world was at peace, his mind wandering to being content at this moment…with Lance. Somehow, it didn’t bother him that he was Lance in this serenity. It made him happier.

Lance gasped dramatically, leaning towards Keith with a surprised look.

“What?” Keith asked, squirming from the intensity of Lance’s gaze.

“You’ve never seen the ocean?” Lance repeated, “Like for real?”

“Yes, for real,” Keith said with a quirk on an eyebrow. “It’s hard to find any body of water in the middle of nowhere, Texas, much less the ocean. Gotta say though, this doesn’t disappoint.”

“Of course!” Lance almost-yelled. It was a good thing that this part of the boardwalk was mostly abandoned, Keith doesn’t think he’s going to survive with anymore looks from strangers. They’ve drawn too much attention for today. Keith’s both mentally and physically exhausted.

“Look!” Lance yelled for real this time. Keith flinched from the volume, but still quizzically looks up to Lance.

“What is it?”

“It’s the sunset,” Lance said with a happy sigh, climbing up the rails. “Reminds me of home.”

“Wait—why are you—you know what, I’m not even going to ask,” Keith said, letting out air through his nose. “So what, you’re flying now?”

“You’ve seen Titanic?” Lance said, raising his arms up. The breeze gently ruffling his clothes. The sun’s rays hit his face, letting a golden halo forming around the fly-away hairs.

“You made me watch it with you,” Keith said softly, something stirred in his chest as he stared at Lance.

“Right,” Lance said with a laugh. His eyes remained close. A smile overtaking his features. It wasn’t the annoying shit-eating grins he mostly shot at Keith or the haughty smirks or even the recent fond ones that made Keith’s heart palpitate, but it was more… satisfied, content. Like all his troubles had washed away. Keith wasn’t interested what the world had to offer, he wanted to know what Lance was thinking.

Keith looked away.

“So, are you going to draw me like one of your French girls?” Lance asked jokingly.

“I don’t have any French girls,” Keith gave him a dull look.

“I don’t hear you saying no,” Lance said, grinning.

“Whatever,” Keith said, hitting Lance with his hippo. He sighed, something he’s been doing a lot lately, propping his chin on one hand. “Pretty.”

“Who?” Lance asked, and then smiled, “Me?”

“The sunset, dumbass,” Keith said, but somewhere deep, deep in his thoughts said  _ yes _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Karlee:  
> [Personal Tumblr](https://sunscreams.tumblr.com)  
> [Voltron Tumblr](https://klancend.tumblr.com)
> 
> Dee:  
> [Tumblr](https://vampingqueen.tumblr.com)  
> [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/deadkid_draws/)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith didn't know anybody could be good at bowling, but apparently Lance is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, Karlee here.
> 
> This chapter took way longer than Dee and I both anticipated (and we even ended up having to cut it in half). That being said; this chap is super long as it stands so please, please enjoy.
> 
> Also, I'm going to be starting school on monday so our updates will be bi-weekly. We're going to try and post every second Friday starting today, but we all know how life is, and that is subject to change. 
> 
> Lastly, thank you so much to [Jocc](https://galaxy-gayrrison.tumblr.com) who is a doll and beta'd this as fast as she could.

Keith ran on autopilot for the rest of the week. Maybe it was his way of coping when things got tough. Regardless, the only thing that could hold Keith’s full attention for long was his art. From the scratching of pencils on paper to the dark smudges of graphite tattooed into the grooves of his fingertips, Keith found himself losing entire hours of time. He loved the feeling of being able to render the images he found in his surroundings into something physical, something everyone else could see through his eyes. 

Art had always been something Keith had been able to understand. When he was seven years old, alone and terrified in an unfamiliar group home, his father’s death still a bleeding wound, Keith drew. When he was thirteen years old, alone and terrified in a middle school classroom, realizing he didn’t like girls in the way he was supposed to, Keith drew. When he was sixteen years old, alone and terrified, outed to the entire school, and suspended for fighting, Keith drew. He’d always been most comfortable with crisp lines on thick sheets of paper and eraser shavings in his lap; his head bowed and his hands busy. 

Keith had never been easy to read and he’d never been too sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Opening up had never been easy for him.

So, by default, Keith tuned in, solely, to his current project. He was trying to recreate that beautiful sun from his ‘date’. It was as if the gradient colors were enough to calm the soul. The sun was painted as a big, romantic beacon shining through the pink cotton candy clouds. Silhouettes of birds shaded the sky into unknown directions. White sands turned gold under the beacon's rays.

Keith sighed as he placed a finger onto the canvas. The paint stuck on to his index finger, still wet. He shook his head and pushed back in the chair he was sitting on, the front two legs lifting off the floor as he reclined back to stare at the ceiling. It was splattered with a multitude of colors, most dominantly red and blues…slowly mixing into a pretty shade of purple.

Lance had told him once that blue was his colour. Apparently it complemented his dark skin tone and made his eyes pop, or something, and that made it  _ his colour. _ Keith, personally, thought Lance only said shit like that because he wanted people to think he was, like, a fashion guru or something.

And, like, okay, Keith could admit that, yeah, Lance looked pretty good in blue, so whatever.

Maybe he was onto something...or something.

If Lance was blue, maybe Keith would be red.

Because, like, Keith really liked red, or whatever.

And, maybe, the blue and red splatters on the ceiling meant something. Because purple sounded pretty cool to Keith.

He gulped, a flush working its way down his neck. Why was he flustered all of the sudden over a bunch of dumb colours?

Keith shook his head violently and slammed the chair back onto all four legs. He grabbed his phone from the table and started to scroll through Instagram. Looking at pictures of other people’s happy, perfect lives, didn’t exactly make Keith feel better about anything, but it certainly sounded better then being alone with his own thoughts.

So, endless Insta scrolling it was.

Allura posted a pretty cool video of her doing some crazy difficult yoga shit. Keith double tapped, sending her a like, because  _ as if  _ that wasn’t impressive. Pidge posted a #tbt picture of herself dabbing in front of the Eiffel Tower at 4:20am, that Keith ended up double tapping too because, come on. That was dedication to the craft. Hunk posted a smiling selfie of himself and his sisters, each proudly holding a delicious looking plate of food. Keith had to double tap; a wholesome post like that deserved another like. However, when Keith scrolled upon Shiro’s most recent post— a picture of his open gym bag, a half-empty water bottle, towel and a pair of running shoes spilling from it artfully— Keith didn’t send him a like, not giving Shiro the satisfaction.

(That made Keith feel petty, but after all the ice cream Shiro made Keith’s lactose intolerant ass suffer through, Keith felt like he deserved a little pettiness.)

Keith moved past the post quickly, coming up short at the sight of a candid picture of himself, smiling into the afternoon sun as wind blew the hair off his face.

Keith knew he hadn’t posted recently, and he also knew he didn’t post selfies of himself, and he definitely knew that if he did post a selfie, he was  _ never  _ smiling in it.

One look at the userbar confirmed his suspicions. Lance had posted all the pictures of their ‘date’.

So, like the good little fake boyfriend he was, Keith double tapped the photo, dropping a like, and tapping on Lance’s username to open his page.

Keith, admittedly, had been on his phone a lot more lately ever since the whole fake dating thing happened. Mainly to monitor Lance’s actions to see if he had posted anything cringe-worthy, and to sometimes be strong armed into posting a few of his own equally as cringe-worthy pictures. God, they were that one annoying couple who documented their entire relationship on social media. Keith didn’t know what was worse: the fact that no one questioned how much Keith allowed their relationship to be public, or the fact that everyone in the comments of their couple-y posts always seemed to be more relieved than shocked to find out Lance and Keith were “dating” as if they had anticipated it.

With a sigh, Keith pressed the endless scroll button and went through the photos, making sure to double tap them as he went through.

Keith and Lance were posed under the entrance to the boardwalk, Lance’s arm thrown around Keith’s obviously tense shoulders. Lance was beaming and Keith looked like he was two seconds away from dying of embarrassment.

A wacky one from gift shop where Lance wore a pair of large cat-eyed womens sunglasses and the horrible handmade beach-bum scarf, and Keith had on a tacky baseball cap that said, “Wishin’ I was Fishin’” along the front. Lance had pursed his lips into one of those kissy-faces, and Keith had a genuine smile on his face.

A group photo with the nice old ladies, Lance’s arm wrapped around Beatrice, and Keith’s wrapped around Gertrude, all four faces smiling brightly, a flush high on Keith’s cheeks.

The red hippo squished between them as Lance and Keith both kissed one of the hippo’s cheeks.

Keith and Lance sharing a milkshake at a diner around midnight.

Lance shirtless—

Wait, hold on.

Keith choked when he saw a particularly scandalous photo of Lance at the beach. His shirt was off and his sinfully short trunks were riding sinfully low on his sinfully perfect ( _ perfect _ ?) hips. Lance’s curly brown hair was plastered to his forehead, a laugh painting his face into something radiant. One of Lance’s arms was flung wide, the other on one of his perfect hips, the outline of his bicep making Keith’s mouth water. Tiny droplets reflected sunlight off of his flat stomach and his skin was golden, glowing underneath the bright sun.

_ Wow _ , Keith thought,  _ what a tall glass of water. _

Keith bit his lip and warmth pooled in his belly as his eyes traced from the dip of Lance’s collarbones, down, down, down…

Keith snapped his eyes away from Lance’s picture, his sweats feeling a little tighter than before as he quickly scrolled to the top of the page.

Keith knew that Lance was conventionally attractive, okay? He’d known that since they first met. And Keith would be lying if he said he hadn’t been at least a little bit attracted to Lance’s body, because come on. He was tall, had nice skin, dressed well and he had eyes that could stop anybody’s heart. His teeth were perfect, and while he definitely was no Shiro, Lance had sleek, lean muscles and broad shoulders that when looked at objectively, made Keith’s mouth water.

If it wasn’t for all of Lance’s horrible personality qualities, Keith felt like he might’ve been crushing on Lance instead.

Keith glanced back at his painting. It was probably mostly dry by now. So, Keith leaned forward to press his index finger onto his canvas. The paint was still tacky, and with a sigh, he flopped back in his chair.

For a few moments, Keith just sprawled like that; his arms flung over the sides of the chair and his head hung over the back.

His phone vibrated in his hand, messages going off at once.

**Pidgeotto** _today, 1:03pm_  
Who’s up for bowling bitches 

**despashiro** _today 1:04pm_  
Language, Katherine 

**Pidgeotto** _today, 1:04pm_  
Don’t tell me what to do, DAD 

**DoorMatt** _today, 1:05pm_  
Ch-choke me harder, Daddy~~ 

**despashiro** _today, 1:06pm_  
Get out 

**Pidgeotto** _today, 1:07pm_  
ANYWAYS 

**Pidgeotto** _today, 1:07pm_  
Bowling, anyone? 

Keith continued to lurk into the group, eyeing their messages. He’s still isn’t done with his painting, so he’s most likely is not going—

**forehead** _today, 1:14pm_  
You coming? 

A private message from Lance.

**mullet man** _today, 1:16pm_  
Idk 

**forehead** _today, 1:16pm_  
What are you doing rn 

**mullet man** _today, 1:17pm_  
Painting 

**forehead** _today, 1:17pm_  
Hm. watching paint dry is not painting, Keith. 

**mullet man** _today, 1:19pm_  
Wtf how do you know what I’m doing 

**forehead** _today, 1:20pm_  
You wouldn’t be on your phone if you were actually painting. 

**forehead** _today, 1:20pm_  
You get way too into it… 

**forehead** _today, 1:20pm_  
Sometimes you even forget to EAT OR BATHE OR REMEMBER THAT YOU ARE A HUMAN BEING WHO HAS NEEDS. 

**mullet man** _today, 1:21pm_  
Lmao 

**forehead** _today, 1:21pm_  
Besides what’s so fun about watching paint dry? 

**forehead** _today, 1:21pm_  
Nothing! 

**mullet man** _today, 1:22pm_  
I need to wait for my first layer to dry before I can start on my second layer. 

**mullet man** _today, 1:22pm_  
I’m trying to get some coursework done 

**forehead** _today, 1:23pm_  
Be a responsible art student another day. You should come because Shiro and Allura are gonna be there and this would be a perfect opportunity to make them peanut butter and jelly. 

**forehead** _today, 1:23pm_  
Plus, I think it worked last time ;) 

**forehead** _today, 1:23pm_  
Defo saw something in Shiro. 

Keith sighed, staring at his phone. He clicked the screen off and glanced at his painting. Lance was right. Watching paint dry really wasn’t any fun. And this would be there perfect opportunity to flaunt their fake dating if Shiro and Allura were gonna be there.

Keith glanced back at his phone and with a resigned sigh typed:

 **mullet man** _today, 1:28pm_  
Okay. I’ll come. 

* * *

As soon as Keith pushed open the front door of the bowling alley, he was assaulted with an almost literal wall of noise. The music was loud—annoyingly so—and the bass thumped so harshly, Keith felt it in his bones. Little kids shrieked, a group of frat boys cheered, large balls met wood floors, and pins clatters over.

For a horrifying moment, Keith felt incredibly overwhelmed.

Then, a giant hand was slamming down on Keith’s shoulder, and a loud, familiar voice shouted, “Keith!” Keith startled, as he was pulled into a side hug. “You made it!” The mystery voice was Hunk’s and Keith felt himself relax slightly.

“Yeah,” Keith said stiffly, patting Hunk’s shoulder awkwardly. “I’m here, surprisingly so.”

“It’s been awhile, man,” Hunk said, a genuine smile painting his face and a bit of worry lacing his tone. “I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

Keith shrugged. “I’ve been busy, I guess,” he said lamely.

“That’s alright,” Hunk patted a large hand on his shoulder. “Follow me,” he said before he started to make his way through the crowd.

The novelty of thumping bass, laughter and neon lights quickly faded into background as Hunk navigated them through the throngs of people. “So, um,” Hunk started as they slid past a group of moms herding their children to a bathroom, “You’re finally dating Lance, hey?”

Keith cleared his throat, “Um, yeah.”

A huge smile broke over Hunk’s face, “That’s really great to hear! I was beginning to get a little worried you two idiots would never get together.”

Keith let out a nervous chuckle, “Yeah, me neither.” Keith could see some of his friends now. They were all standing by the counter, a bored looking teenager with a bad case of acne monotonously talking at them as if the words tasted like a bland piece of bread on his tongue. Keith spotted Shiro, his head hovering at least a good 6 inches above everyone else’s and this handsome smile on his face. Keith waited for his heart to miss a beat.

Instead, Keith felt a pang deep in his chest.

“You know, after listening to Lance pi—Oof!” Hunk yelped as someone body slammed him from behind.

“Hunkydory!” Lance said, draping one arm over his shoulders. Keith felt a corner of his mouth quirk up. “My favorite man.” Lance’s eyes bounced to Keith, and for a moment, Keith thought he saw something like  _ panic _ in Lance’s eyes.

What did  _ Lance _ have to panic about?

But before Keith could say anything, Hunk said, “Shouldn’t Keith be your favourite man?”

“Keith knows he can’t stand in the way of our love,” Lance said as he mock swooned onto Hunk.

Lance still wasn’t looking at him, but Keith knew he needed to play along so he rolled his eyes and said, “I’ve come to accept that some bromances are too strong to overcome.”

Lance opened his mouth to say something else, when the bored teenager asked, “What shoe size?” The guys rattled off their shoe sizes, swapping their street shoes for bowling shoes.

Lance looked up from his shoes, locking his eyes with Keith. “You know what they say about big feet?”

“Big ego,” Keith said dully, but couldn’t help let his eyes trail towards Lance’s crotch. He cursed himself for daring to even look at it. He turned to the rest of his group, “You guys go ahead, I gotta talk to Lance for a few.”

“Oooh, in private?” Pidge teased.

Keith rolled his eyes and then grabbed Lance’s sleeve to drag him to a small corner.

“We need to set up some rules,” Keith said, letting go of Lance’s sleeve.

“Ooookay,” Lance said, leaning against the wall. “Any ideas?”

“Pet names are fine,” Keith said.

“I knew you liked them,” Lance said with a smirk, crossing his arms triumphantly.

Keith ignored that. “And hand holding. I’m okay with that.”

“Oh! What about I put my hand in you back pocket,” Lance said, grinning, “Like  _ Sixteen Candles _ ?”

“Never seen it,” Keith said, waving his hand flippantly. “Don’t touch my ass.”

“Aw, but it’s cute!” Lance gushed, poking one of Keith’s butt cheeks.

Keith flushed, slapping Lance’s hand away and said in warning, “I’m going to cut your balls off in your sleep.”

“Is it weird that lowkey turns me on?” Lance asked, tapping his chin in thought.

“Definitely,” Keith said, “How the hell can you say that out loud?”

“Practice and zero shame,” Lance shrugged, he then perked up, “Okay, so we’re adding that to list; honesty, okay? No bullshit.”

Keith sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Any more to add?”

“Don’t fall in love with me,” Lance said jokingly. “I’m going to break your heart, babe.”

“Sure,” Keith crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, but felt a weird little pain in his chest at that.

A bright flash and a click caught Keith’s attention

“Wait, what the fuck?” Keith said, eyes snapping back to Lance who had his phone out. “Did you just take a picture of me?”

“Yeppers,” Lance said, tapping away on his phone, he flipped it around to show Keith the screen. “Aw, look at you!”

“Lance!” Keith groaned as he saw a picture of himself, arms crossed and eyes-mid roll. “Delete that! I look like an idiot.”

“Nuh uh, you look adorable with your little scowl,” Lance laughed. “It’s my lockscreen now. We need to match. Hand me your phone.”

“Is this another rule?” Keith quipped, begrudgingly handing over his phone.

Lance made a small heart with his thumb and index finger crossed together and a wink and a barely there grin. As usual, the photo came out flawless, the bright neon lights casting an almost ethereal blue glow around Lance.

It seemed like everything about Lance was too bright and too pretty.

Keith shook that thought away, it sounded like trouble in his head.

* * *

“They’re, like, twenty feet away, Lance,” Keith said as Lance laced their fingers together.

Lance swung their still clasped hands between them as they walked. Somehow, Keith found himself comforted from the action. “It’s called dedication. Look it up,” Lance sent Keith a teasing smirk, something warm blooming in the pit of Keith’s stomach.

“Please,” Keith teased back, “You wouldn’t know dedication if it bit you on the ass.”

“There are other things I’d like to bite me in the ass,” Lance said, sending Keith a suggestive look that absolutely did not cause Keith to blush.

Lance winked before he turned to the group. “Who’s ready to be demolished by the Sharpshooter,” Lance’s eyes were bright with enthusiasm.

Keith felt himself wince as the rest of the group ignored him, pushing buttons on the machine.

“Lame,” Lance said with a pout.

Keith rolled his eyes and tugged Lance down into their seats. “You can amaze them when it is your turn, Sharpshooter.”

Matt went first, nearly catapulting himself to the pins as he slid down the alley. The rest of them laughed loudly while Matt sent them a dopey embarrassed smile. Pidge had a hard time lifting the bowling ball and just ended up throwing it. They all winced every time the ball bounced down the polished floors. Allura and Hunk managed to hit more than half while Shiro managed to get everything but a single pin.

“Bad arm,” Shiro said with a shrug while wiggling the fingers of his prosthetic and Keith couldn’t help but feel a little charmed at that. Shiro was a fucking adorable dork.

It was finally Lance’s turn. He grinned maniacally, lifting the ball high above his head to bestow upon the peasants. “Watch and learn, mofos. The Sharpshooter is here.”

Lance made a dramatic spin, throwing the ball haphazardly, but somehow, Lance still managed to make a strike. He was kneeling down when his twirl had stopped, right in front of Keith with a toothy smile and a wink.

“Impressed, Mullet Boy?” Lance said with a smug tone.

“It’s actually Mullet Man, but continue,” Keith teased back, an unimpressed look on his face even though Keith found himself  _ very  _ impressed.

“Are you impressed enough to give me a reward?” Lance leaned forward wiggling his eyebrows.

Keith gave him a shrug. “I don’t know. What do you have in mind?”

“Give him a kiss!” yelled Pidge as she popped her bubblegum.

Keith’s shoulders tensed. He turned to Pidge with a glare worth a thousand burning suns. “Fuck off, Pidge.”

“Kiss, kiss, kiss!” Matt started chanting, making kissy faces. And of course, everyone in the immediate vicinity started chiming in too, furthering Keith’s embarrassment.

“Guys,” Keith hissed, crossing his arms tightly across his chest, his mouth clamped in an angry straight line.

Lance scooted towards him, resting his palm on Keith’s knee. Keith could feel the warmth of it even though his jeans. Lance’s smug smile melted into a something a little softer. “You don’t have to do it if you don’t want.”

Keith raised his brows in surprise. He actually thought Lance would happily egg him into kissing him, surprisingly. He lowkey hoped he would for some odd reason. There was just something about Lance that made him want to say yes.

Keith rolled his eyes and said, “It’s one of the rules,” before hauling Lance up so their faces were level and planted a small peck on Lance’s lips.

Lance blushed like a tomato.

And Keith obsessed over Lance’s soft lips.

* * *

“I’ve never actually bowled before,” Keith said, almost absently to Lance, after another round of shitty bowling on his part.

“Wait,” Lance turned to face Keith. “You’re telling me, little Baby Mullet—Mullet Boy, if you would—never went to any bowling birthday parties?”

Keith felt himself shrink under Lance’s gaze. “Not really.” Keith shrugged, and looked away. “I guess I just never stayed in one place long enough as a kid to make friends to invite me to their bowling birthday parties.”

Lance stared at Keith for a few beats, his eyebrows furrowed, some sort of  _ look _ on his face. Lance shook his head, physically shaking his  _ look  _ away before a small smile turned up the corners of his mouth and he said, “So, no one actually ever taught you how to play?”

Keith shook his head, grateful that Lance wasn’t going to linger on his tragic backstory.

“Okay, your next turn I am 100% showing you how it’s done.” Lance leaned into Keith’s space, their shoulders bumping lightly.

“Okay, Sharpshooter,” Keith teased and rolled his eyes.

A few rounds passed and soon it was Keith’s turn, a tacky animation playing just before his name flashed on the screen above their heads. Keith sighed and stepped up, ready to land three gutter balls again.

However, this time, Keith didn’t go up alone, Lance followed him. “Alright Mullet Boy, you ready to become a Mullet Man?”

Keith sent Lance an incredulous look, “Lance, go sit down.”

“No, I’m gonna teach you how to bowl,” he placed a hand on the small of Keith’s back.

Keith felt his cheeks warm, “Can’t you do that from the bench?”

“Mmm,” Lance hummed thoughtfully. “Nope, I don’t think I can, actually.”

Keith rolled his eyes, “Oh my god.”

“Look,” Lance dropped his teasing, but a soft smile remained. “Just go grab a ball and I’ll guide you through it.”

Keith sighed, but conceded and grabbed a ball. “Okay, Sharpshooter, what’s the secret?”

“Show me your approach,” Lance nodded to the lane.

“My approach?” Keith raised an eyebrow, “There is no way bowling is that deep.”

“Hey now, bowling is a sport,” Lance placed his hands on his hips, looking more like a wanna-be know-it-all than the ‘bowling guru’ he was trying to be. “Just, okay, line up your body with the middle of the lane,” Lance took Keith by his shoulders and lead him to where he should be. “But don’t aim for the middle.”

“Lance I want a strike not a gutter-ball,” Keith furrowed his brows.

“No, listen, are you right-handed or left-handed?”

“Left.”

“Weirdo.”

“Lance, please.”

“Okay, okay,” Lance shook his head. “So aim a little bit to the left. Everyone gives a natural curve to their tosses because of the way our bodies work.”

“Okay,” Keith nodded and focused his eyes a little to the left of the head pin.

“Okay, now on the approach, you wanna take four steps starting with your left foot.”

“Why is this so technical?” Keith shot Lance a disbelieving look.

“Just listen to me,” Lance rolled his eyes, “I’ve been bowling my whole life. I know what works.”

Keith sighed, “Whatever,” then centered himself on the lane. He focused his eyes a little to the left and took off, taking four steps, releasing the ball and watching it roll down the lacquered court. The ball hit the center pin, taking out almost all of the pins, leaving just three in the back right corner.

“Hell yeah, Keith!” Lance cheered, his hand large and warm on his shoulder.

“Hell yeah,” Keith couldn’t believe he hit the pins. “How do I get the last ones?”

“Same way, just aim for the left most pin,” Lance said excitedly, his hand still on Keith’s shoulder as he gestured to the remaining pins.

“Okay,” Keith muttered, grabbing another ball and lining up in much of the same way as before. Keith aimed for the left most pin and let the ball fly.

Keith almost didn’t believe it when the ball hit the remaining pins, all of them falling over. A corny animation of a chicken getting hit by a cartoon bowling ball flashed over Keith’s head; a spare. Keith scored a spare.

It wasn’t a gutter-ball.

Holy shit, Keith scored!

Keith turned to Lance, “Holy shit!”

“Holy shit!”

“I did it!”

“You fucking did it!”

“Lance!” Keith jumped forward, a huge smile taking his face, elation bubbling up in his chest. Keith grabbed the sides of Lance’s face, pulling him in and stealing a kiss. Somewhere in the background someone cheered.

Keith pulled away, a flush high on his cheeks. Lance’s face was also red, but he had this dazed sort of look on his face.

“Thanks, Sharpshooter.”

* * *

“You really like spending money,” Keith commented as Lance fished out another dollar from his wallet.

“Shush, Keith,” Lance said, inserting the dollar into the slot. “I’m concentrating.”

Keith rolled his eyes for millionth time that day, watching as Lance continued to fail miserably in trying to catch the stuffed animal. The crane manage to snag the ear of a bunny.

“Ah! Ah!” Lance yelled, carefully maneuvering the joystick. As it drew near to the prize hole, the ear slipped out, returning to the pile of toys.

_ “Hijo de la chingada!”  _ Lance shouted, banging the glass. “I almost had it! This game has to be rigged!”

Keith actually felt bad, watching Lance sulk against the claw machine looking like a kicked puppy. Keith let out a breath, a small smile worming its way onto his face. “Let me try, it can’t be that hard.”

“ _ It can’t be that hard _ ,” Lance repeated his words, trying to match Keith’s voice. It was terrible imitation.

Keith shook his head. He grabbed a crumpled dollar from his pocket, straightened it and then inserted into the machine. The game returned to life. Bubble-gum pop music started playing.

Keith zeroed on to the blue shark in the middle. He maneuvered the claw right above. It grabbed onto it back fin, just dangling in the air. They both held their breath as Keith made the claw go to the prize hole. It moved slowly, the shark’s fin slipped with every movement until it dropped on the hole. They both paused…and then Lance freaked out.

“What the fuck!” Lance yelled, hands flying up to his hair, gripping it. “How!?”

“Maybe I’m just lucky,” Keith shrugged, ducking down to get his prize.

“Bullshit, that game is rigged,” Lance said with a huff, pout forming on his lips.

“Here, catch,” Keith said, throwing the shark onto Lance’s hands.

“Wait, what?” Lance asked, puzzled. He stared at the shark’s button eyes.

“It’s yours,” Keith said, shoving his sweaty hands into his pockets.

“Mine?” Lance said, looking up at Keith. “Dude, you won this. This should be yours.”

“I already got the hippo,” Keith reasoned, licking his dry lips. “Think of it as payback.”

Lance bit his lip, restraining the huge grin trying to overtake his features. He squeezed the toy, it let out a small squeak.

“Thanks, man,” Lance said softly.

Keith gulped, turning to the exit, their friends all already waiting for them, “Yeah, whatever.”

* * *

The late afternoon air was chilly as Keith stepped out of the bowling alley, the brisk air cooling his warm cheeks. Laughter pulled from his chest and from the chests of his friends as they spilled out onto the parking lot.

“Oh man, bowling alley food never does it for me,” Hunk groaned, rubbing his stomach idly.

Pidge laughed, “You say that like you come here all the time.”

Hunk rolled his eyes, “I’m just saying, I could go for some Vrepit Sal’s right about now.”

“Oh, man, I’ve been craving Vrepit Sal’s for weeks, dude!” Lance cheered as he wrapped an arm around Keith, the stuffed shark pinned under his other arm.

Keith’s pulse quickened from the sudden contact. The arm slung over his shoulder was not an unfamiliar weight, but there was something different about it this time. Maybe it was the new rules they were following. Keith didn’t know, all he knew was that this feeling was just…weird.

Keith felt like something th felt like had shifted between the two of them; something unfamiliar and different. The change terrified Keith. He was never really able to get used to change, no matter how often it happened.

Because there’d always been a difference between Lance and Keith: attachment. 

Lance always got too attached. He clings to his friends and his family. And recently, he’d been clinging onto Keith. The worst part about it is that Keith felt it almost like an iron shackle clamped around his wrist. Lance got attached and Keith didn’t know how to get attached.

Keith’s distant. He lets go. He cuts people off like ribbons and throws them into the air. No substance. No feelings. No attachments. Keith doesn’t let people close enough to hurt him because he’d been hurt too many times by the people who always told him they’d never hurt him.

From his mom who left when he was barely old enough to hold his own head up, to his dad who just  _ had _ to be the hero and paid the price for it. To the smiling faces of his first foster parents, to the furrowed brows of the CPS agent who couldn’t find him a “forever home.”

Keith knew hurt. And he knew abandonment. And he wouldn’t allow himself to go through that again.

Where Lance was like blue kool-aid, Keith was something akin to acid. He made fear and because of that, he constantly found himself pushing people away.

It was because of this fact that Keith was reminded how different him and Lance truly were. It was like a universal fact. Lance and Keith. Keith and Lance. Neck and neck. Whatever. It was their dynamic; death glares and secret glances. They held hands and pushed each other into walls. They took adorable selfies together and then called each other terrible names.

And if Keith was really going to get deep—to be a pretentious shit about metaphors—he might as well say that their relationship was a painted portrait. Violent strokes, but soft colours. Lance covered the grey, the blanks. He’s blue, like the sky. It was ethereal like the pale moon. He was safe. He was fixed.

Keith was the one that ripped the canvas at its seams; frayed the edges. He was the red that was too oversaturated like a bleeding sun. He was too much. Like cheap cologne and old spice.

It didn’t make sense.

They would never make sense.

That is, if things were actually real.

Keith felt pathetic feeling all  _ that _ just from the weight of Lance’s arm placed over Keith’s shoulder. A gesture that shouldn’t mean so much. He was overthinking this.

But like he said; Keith was feeling...weird.

“Okay then,” Shiro propped his hands on his hips and Keith couldn’t keep his eyes away from the attractive line Shiro’s hips made. “Let’s go to Vrepit Sal’s.” Keith’s eyes flickered away.

“Shotgun with Hunk!” Pidge called, gunning it to Hunk’s yellow Jeep.

“Come on!” Lance whined, “You got shotgun on the way here.”

“Keith, didn’t you drive here?” Allura asked.

“Um, yeah,” Keith shrugged, watching Lance jerk to a stop.

“Fuck, shotgun with Keith then!” Lance bounced back over to Keith’s side.

Keith opened his mouth to correct Lance, but Shiro piped up first, “Allura, I guess you’re with me then.”

Keith waited for his stomach to drop as Shiro sent Allura one of his soft, warm smiles.

Except it never got worse than the little pang that he felt when he saw Shiro earlier.

Even when Shiro placed a palm on the small of her back.

Even when she sent Shiro a soft, warm smile back.

Even when Shiro send a goodbye glance to Keith.

“Okay, I didn’t even know you had a car,” Lance broke Keith out of his musing.

“I don’t,” Keith sent Lance a smirk, “I own a bike.”

“A bike?” Lance cocked a hip, “That doesn’t count as driving. Plus won’t it take us like four years to get to Vrepit Sal’s?”

“Lance, I drove a motorbike,” Keith deadpanned, rolling his eyes as he did. Lance was a freaking idiot. A manual bike. As if.

“A motorbike?” Lance’s face was blank. “Like a nice one?”

Keith let out a laugh, “I think it’s nice. Can’t account for your shitty taste though.” Lance still looked like his mind was rebooting so Keith nodded his head in the direction of the parking lot. “C’mon we have a diner to raid.”

“Right,” Lance sounded almost absent minded, so Keith took the initiative to lead the way to his bike. Red was a beauty with a classic chassis and one single yellow headlight on her front. Keith was pretty proud of her, having found her rotting at a scrapyard a few years back and then fixing her up.

“Well, fuck,” Lance muttered, his voice reverent as he looked at the bike. Keith feel a little ball of pride well up in his chest.

Keith stepped towards the bike, pulling out his keys to open the seat and pull out his helmet and the spare he always kept handy. He closed the hatch and hands the spare helmet to Lance, who  _ still _ looked like he was trying to solve the mysteries of life. Keith rolled his eyes and stepped over the bike, starting it and revelling in the loud purr from the engine.

“You coming, McClain?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Karlee:  
> [Personal Tumblr](https://sunscreams.tumblr.com)  
> [Voltron Tumblr](https://klancend.tumblr.com)
> 
> Dee:  
> [Tumblr](https://vampingqueen.tumblr.com)  
> [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/deadkid_draws/)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liking your fake boyfriend clinging to you during a motorcycle ride, being unable to look away form your fake boyfriend during dinner, a beach walk under the stars with just the two of you, and scrolling through his Insta for at least an hour is totally platonic right? 
> 
> Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, y'all, Karlee here, just wanting to say thanks again for sticking with us on our new update schedule. We (read: my dumbass in uni) really appreciate your patience!
> 
> Also, just a heads up: there is a little bit of sexual content in the chapter. If you're not comfy w that, it's all the way at the end of the chap, and it starts basically right after Keith opens Lance's Vsco. 
> 
> And as always, check out our wonderful [beta](https://glaxygayrrison.tumblr.com)!

“Have you ever ridden a motorcycle before?” Keith asked, his voice echoing a little in the vast, quiet space of the abandoned parking lot. 

Lance shook his head.

“Great night to get started,” said Keith with a smile. His arms were crossed over his chest and he felt perfectly at ease. This was something Keith knew—something he knew that Lance didn’t. And maybe that shouldn’t have given him such a rush, but as he placed the helmet onto his head and his face disappeared behind the tinted abyss of his visor, Keith felt the most confident he had in days. The most confident he’d felt since he confessed to Shiro.

Keith pushed up his visor. “Are you scared? We can always call an Uber,” Keith taunted.

Those were the magic words. Hook, line, and sinker.

“No!” Lance yelled and Keith winced from the volume. Fighting spirit reared its head inside of Lance. “I’m game, bitch!”

“You don’t need to call me that,” Keith sighed, feeling the beginnings of a laugh bubbling up his throat. Keith tossed a smirk over his shoulder as he revved up the engine. It hummed under him, Keith feeling the phantom feeling of wind on his face, black asphalt underneath him.

Lance climbed onto the bike behind Keith and even with the spare helmet pressed between them, Keith could feel the warmth of Lance’s chest bleeding through the leather of his jacket. Lance’s thighs bracketed Keith’s thighs and for a horrifying second, Keith wanted to run his hands up the length of them, feeling the muscle shift and flex under the denim.

Keith cursed the red motorcycle then. Keith knew it was a bit on the smaller side, and he liked it that way; it was easier to maneuver. But with the way Lance was pressed into Keith, he almost wished it was bigger.

Keith turned around and shoved the helmet into Lance’s head, half out of wanting to just  _ go _ , half out of wanting Lance’s warmth pressed fully against him. Keith felt amusement rise in him as Lance’s bangs matted against his forehead.

“Look, you’re going to have to hold on. I promise you’ll be safer with me than anyone else.” He turned his head and grinned through the helmet, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. “As long as you trust me, and...just don’t let go.”

Lance audibly, visibly gulped as he reached around to Keith’s front, his pinky raised up. “Pinky promise?”

Keith rolled his eyes, but a grin grew on his face. “Of course, the most law abiding contract, the pinky swear,” Keith teased, but crossed his small finger with Lance’s nonetheless.

“Okay, just—” Lance cut himself off, then started again, “I’ve never been on a motorbike before and I’m also still reeling because I think this is highkey really cool.”

Keith felt his eyebrow go up, “Did you just admit to thinking I’m cool?”

That seemed to snap Lance out of whatever daze he was in, “What? No! Fuck off, Mullet. You automatically lose all your cool points as long as you’ve got the official look of Billy Ray Cyrus.”

Keith rolled his eyes then, thankful Lance was acting like himself again. “Whatever you say,” Keith shot Lance one last smile before he pushed down his visor and started walking them out of the spot Keith had his bike parked in.

Keith’s heart pounded in his chest and not just from his anticipation for the ride as Lance nodded and wrapped his arms firmly around Keith’s waist. With that less-than-verbal confirmation, Keith revved the engine again, and peels off onto the road.

Keith didn’t give much of a warning—didn’t give any, really. So as the bike lurched forward, Lance’s arms clamped down around Keith’s waist, squeezing like an anaconda. Keith couldn’t exactly breathe right, but he couldn’t say for sure if it was from the tightness of Lance's grip around his waist or the proximity of Lance’s slim, lithe body pressed tightly against his own. Or maybe even both.

After a few moments, Keith’s body adjusted to the added weight, balancing both the bike and Lance’s dead-weight as if they were part of him. The boys and the bike flew through the streets, dodging the evening pedestrians and some light traffic. Keith made sure to go either on or under the speed limit most of the way to Vrepit Sal’s, mostly to keep Lance from losing his shit completely, but also because it would be super embarrassing to get pulled over and ticketed with  _ Lance _ as a passenger, of all people.

And because of Keith’s reduced speed, it took a little extra time to get ot the diner than it would have if Keith had gone alone. And yet, by the time Keith saw the flickering neon light of Vrepit Sal’s, he felt something like disappointment bloom in his chest.

And for a moment that lasted entirely too long, Keith wondered why.

Then decided to ignore the answer, immediately.

Because there was no way that Keith was disappointed about losing Lance’s warm chest against his back, or his long arms wrapped securely around his waist, or his beautiful thighs clenched tightly around his hips—  

It was not possible.

Keith could feel himself stewing as he parked his bike, letting down the kickstand and shaking out his helmet hair. And then Keith chanced a glance back at Lance and Keith couldn’t help the little snort of laughter that escaped him as he saw the look on Lance’s face.

Lance’s face was flushed, the blush colouring high on his cheeks, and his pupils were blown wide, the blue of his irises almost eclipsed by pupil. His chest was heaving with uneven breaths, his hands were trembling and when Lance pulled off his helmet (shakily at best, sloppily at worst), his hair was plastered to his face and neck with sweat.

Lance’s voice was barely even a wheeze as he said, “Holy—fucking—Quiznack.”

“I don’t think you’re using that word right,” Keith quipped.

“I swear I think I felt my elbow grazed the road when you took that turn my the deli shop in Little Italy,” Lance said, looking slightly pale. “I thought that nice little Italian woman was going to have to scrape me off the pavement.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Keith said, rolling his eyes, but a suspiciously fond smile taking up his face.

“Oh boy,” Lance said, but there was a gleam in his eye. “In all honesty, that was Mcfriggin’ awesome.”

“Yeah?” said Keith, raising a brow. “Would you want to do it again?”

“Aw, hell yeah,” Lance said. “Next time though, I’m going to drive and you’re going to get your brain shot right out of your skull.”

“You have to know how drive a motorcycle first, dumbass,” Keith said with a laugh.

“I can always learn,” Lance said breezily with a shrug, finally hopping off the bike. Keith followed a second later. Lance bumped Keith’s shoulder, “I’d have a good teacher.”

Keith’s heart stuttered in his chest, his hands freezing where they were on stowing the helmets. “W-wait, who said I was going to teach you?”

“No one,” Lance said, a teasing smile on his face that Keith felt was a little more than endearing as he walked backward away from Keith. “You offering, Mullet?”

Keith dropped a helmet into the compartment by accident, the clatter of polycarbonate plastic against the undercarriage of the bike, startling Keith out of his staring. Keith righted the helmets and said, “I guess I could help you out.”

Keith swore he could almost feel actual heat from how brightly Lance beamed.

“Awesome-sauce.”

* * *

Vrepit Sal’s was every college student’s go-to diner. On the outside, the place looked like it had gone out of business years ago; none of the lights on the neon signs worked anymore, and the stucco on the outside of the building was chipping off in large unsightly chunks, revealing the equally-as-tattered bricks below. The only way to know if Vrepit Sal’s was open was to try the door. Especially because the hours the place was open were a mystery to even the staff.

With decor that could have been vintage if it had been taken care of over the years, the inside wasn’t much better. The black and white floor tiles were cracked and worn, the red and white booth seats all had questionable stains and cigarette burns on them, and if  _ American Pickers  _ had taught Keith anything, it was that it was a travesty that the genuine  _ Coca-Cola  _ signs hanging on the walls were so tattered and worn, you could hardly see the red paint through the tarnish. There was a shitty, old jukebox sitting lonely in one corner near the bar that only had some of the best hits from the 80s and there was also a rarely stocked cigarette machine in the bathroom of all places. And speaking of the bathroom, going near any of the toilets or surfaces in there was strictly a no-go.

On the surface, Vrepit Sal’s was a shit-hole, but for the few brave souls who stomached the decor, the food was actually really good. The burgers were thick cut, juicy and always perfectly done. Plus, Sal never skimped on the toppings, making sure all burgers were bursting with flavour. Most of the time, Keith ended up eating the toppings with a fork after the burger, finding them just as good as when they were on it.

This combination of shit-hole dive-bar, and cheap-yet-delicious food made it the perfect spot for broke college students and bored high schoolers alike.

That night, the diner was mostly empty; there was an old guy slumped over a cup of coffee and a newspaper at the end of the bar, probably half asleep, and a young woman chatting with one of the waitresses, smiles on their faces as they sneakily shared a slice of pie.

Their rowdy group cut through the still air, somehow managing to squeeze all seven of them into one tiny booth. Their elbows and shoulders brushed as they laughed and joked. Fries and hamburgers sat in different stages of devoured on their plates, the jukebox playing “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go” almost dream-like in the background.

Lance was telling a story, his hands flailing as he explained his latest adventure—or misadventure—with his niece and nephew. “So, Danica punched Nico—in the arm, mind you—and he just kept laughing. It was making Dani so mad, but I just couldn’t stop laughing, either.”

“Hold on,” Allura said through a laugh, “What did this all start with?”

Lance narrowly avoided knocking over Hunk’s milkshake in his excitement, “That movie  _ Freaky Friday _ with Lindsay Lohan and Jamie Lee Curtis.”

Everyone at the table had reactions ranging from rolled eyes, to understanding nods, and Keith had no idea what they were even talking about. “Has everyone seen that?” Keith didn’t mean to say it, but it slipped out. And then everyone’s eyes were on him.

Guess that answered that question.

“Jesus McFriggin’ Christ, Keith,” Lance said exasperatedly, “Do you live under a rock?”

“No, I lived in a shack in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere for ten years, though,” Keith muttered under his breath.

“Okay, well, guess what we’re doing next weekend,” Lance announced, bumping his shoulder into Keith’s. “Anyways, so they both apparently have very strong opinions on  _ Freaky Friday _ ! And so I decided to just pull a fast one on them and pretend me and their mom got switched.”

Keith propped his chin on his fist, listening to Lance’s story with tepid interest. He found himself more focused on how animated Lance was talking about his family. Smile growing with every mention of his niece and nephew, the sides of his eyes getting wrinkled, nose scrunching. Keith felt his finger glide over the denim of his own knee, sketching the image Lance painted, almost unconsciously.

Lance reached out, his blue eyes light as he grabbed a salt shaker. He gestured with it, saying something that made the whole table laugh. This pleased smile slid over his face as he pulled the salt shaker over his food, and shook the salt over his fries. But the lid must have been loose because suddenly all of the salt was on Lance’s plate, the lid rolling off onto his lap.

The table fell silent. All of them stuck in suspended silence, Lance’s mouth open in shock.

Then Keith snorted, placing a hand to his mouth to cover his laughter, the rest of the table following after.

Lance sighed, a laugh escaping him at his own expense. Pidge sparked up a story then about the time she dared her brother to eat a teaspoon of pepper. Keith slid his plate of fries closer to Lance.

Lance turned to Keith, keeping his voice low, the words only for Keith. “Why do you do that?”

Keith shook his head as he said, “Yours got a salt bath.”

“No—I mean, thank you, but I meant,” Lance shook his head, a fond look on his face. “Why do you cover your face when you laugh?”

“Oh,” Keith felt his brows furrow, and he looked away to the scattered fries on his plate. “I don’t know? I guess it just feels natural,” Keith said with a shrug, suddenly feeling self conscious.

Lance bumped their shoulders together, a 1,000 watt smile directed directly at Keith. “You shouldn’t cover up like that. I like your laugh.”

“Er, uh, um.” Keith.exe stopped working.

“What?” Lance bumped Keith’s shoulder again. “I think it’s cute!”

“Lance,” Keith shook his head, his cheeks warming up. This wasn’t in the rules. Embarrassing Keith wasn’t in the rules.

* * *

The group spilled into the dark, almost otherworldly, parking lot of Vrepit Sal’s. Pidge caught Keith’s elbow as the group walked a few paces ahead. “Guys, go on ahead. I need to talk to Keith for a minute,” Pidge called when everyone paused.

“He doesn’t give great dating advice if you’re gonna ask him about that girl in your active sciences class,” Lance called as he walked with the group backwards.

Keith and Pidge both just sent him a cute middle finger. Lance laughed and turned back around, waiting with the rest of the group a few meters away. Keith caught the sound of Shiro laughing, his voice cutting into the still night air, and bringing back that pain in Keith’s chest.

“Are you and Lance fake dating still?” Pidge cut through Keith’s shitty pining.

“What?” Keith cocked an eyebrow at her. “Yeah, why?”

Pidge crossed her arms, a vague look clouding her eyes under her glasses. “You guys just seemed…” she trailed off, before taking a large breath and saying, “You guys just seemed really close, is all.”

“Well, we’re supposed to be dating, Pidge,” Keith pushed his hands deeper into his pockets, super unsure of what Pidge was trying to say. “We’re supposed to be super close.”

“Yeah, okay, like I know that, but—” This time she cut herself off, a frustrated sound coming from her. “Are you sure you guys are faking it?”

Keith felt himself physically draw back, “What the fuck.” Keith shook his head, “Yeah, I’m pretty sure we’re faking it.”

Pidge pursed her lips and glanced over Keith’s shoulder to where the group was standing. Keith didn’t even have to check to know she was looking at Lance. “Are you sure Lance is?”

“Pidge,” Keith could feel himself getting angry now, “Lance and I have made this entire deal very clear to each other. We’re faking until we make Shiro and Allura jealous enough to want to date us.”

Pidge opened her mouth to say something, but decided against it, snapping her mouth shut with a click. She sighed, annoyed, and closed her eyes before she said, “Okay. As long as you guys are on the same page.”

“We’re on the same page,” Keith said. “We made rules,” he said, calmer this time.

Pidge nodded, “Okay. Let’s get back.” The pair started to walk over, “Lance looks like he’s about to bust a gasket over there.”

Keith let out an amused snort. “Not allowed to know the hot goss? I’m surprised he hasn’t already stomped his flat ass over here,” Keith teased, letting go of a little bit of his anger.

“I’m sorry, did you just say I have a flat ass?” Lance squawked, now within hearing range.

“Ouch,” Pidge playfully winced, “First lovers quarrel, and about Lance’s ass no less.”

“They do say love is cruel,” Hunk elbowed Pidge.

“Ha ha, bully Lance. It’s all fun and games now, but the next time any of y’all need some bowling lessons, I’m gonna be busy.” Lance pouted, turning away from the group as everybody laughed.

“How will we ever survive?” Allura snarked, pulling a few more chuckles out of the group.

“Alright everyone, that’s enough picking on Lance,” Shiro placeated, ever the Dad Friend.

“Thank you, Shiro,” Lance turned back to the group, “This is what real friendship looks like.”

“Hold your horses there, Lance,” a sly smirk slid over Shiro’s handsome features. “I’m only here for the free bowling lessons.”

“Oh, as if, Shiro!” Lance cried as the rest of the group let laughter float into the still air.

“Okay, but for real guys,” Shiro started once the group calmed down. “I really have to get going,” Shiro rocked back on his heels, his hands shoved into his pockets. “I’m teaching an 8am class tomorrow at the gym.”

“Gross, who works out at 8am?” Pidge wrinkled her nose, her hands shoved in her pockets.

“Shiro and I used to go to the gym at 6am,” Keith shrugged.

Lance’s face twisted in disgust and Pidge faked gagging. “Why?” Lance whispered.

Keith rolled his eyes, “Not all of us are divas like you, Lance.”

“Anyway,” Shiro said, a charming smile on his face, “I really oughta be going.”

Lance mouthed ‘oughta’ as Allura said, “Ooh, Shiro if you’re leaving, could I catch a ride with you?”

“Of course,” Shiro nodded. “See you guys later, yeah?”

Everyone sounded off with their own form of goodbye as Shiro and Allura waved and walked off into the dark parking lot, their shoulders bumping as they walked. Keith’s heart squeezed, the pang from all day stronger and fuller now that Shiro was walking away for the night with someone else.

“Hey, Pidge,” Hunk cut through the silence, “We’ve really gotta work on that...thing,” he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “You know?”

“What—” Pidge started, cutting herself off at the sharp look Hunk sent her, “Oh yeah, that thing.” Pidge looked at Lance and Keith, “We’d really like to hang, but you know how it is. Science stops for no one.”

“Totally burning hypothesis,” Hunk shakes his head regretfully. Keith can feel his eyebrows climb his forehead, smelling some hot bullshit.

“Later homos,” Pidge gave a two-fingered salute, before she pulled Hunk into the dark parking lot.

Lance turned to Keith, his brown skin haloed in the flickering streetlight above them. “So,” he said.

“So,” Keith said.

Lance chuckled nervously, “Could I get a ride home?”

Keith shrugged, “Sure.”

Neither of them moved from their place under the streetlight. The amber light keeping them in a warm, safe little circle. Lance rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. “Is it weird that I don’t wanna go home yet?”

Keith shrugged, “I don’t think so.”

Lance looked back at Keith for a few beats, a look that Keith couldn’t read holding his features before he smiled and said, “There’s a beach nearby. We could check it out.”

“I’ve never been to a beach before,” Keith didn’t know why, but the words came out whispered.

“Then let’s go,” Lance whispered back.

“At night? Won’t it be cold?”

“Sure, but sometimes it’s nicer when it’s cold.”

“Okay then,” Keith looked away, “Let’s go then.”

* * *

 

“You’re gonna want to take your shoes and socks off,” Lance said, already toeing off his mostly white converse. “That is, unless you  _ like  _ sand in your shoes forever.”

“It won’t stay in my shoes forever,” Keith said, rolling his eyes.

“Uh, yeah it will,” Lance straightened up, his shoes in his hands and his socks stuffed into the toes of his shoes.

“Lance,” Keith tried to keep his voice neutral. “I lived in the desert for my whole life. I know how to deal with sand.”

“Yeah,” Lance nodded his head, a contemptuous look on his face, “Which is why you should know that sand gets everywhere and then never leaves.”

“Lance, my shoes will be fine on my feet,” Keith turned around, done with the conversation.

“No they won’t,” Lance exclaimed, stopping Keith in his tracks. “Beach sand never leaves.”

Keith whirled around. “Beach sand and desert sand are the same thing.”

“No they’re not,” Lance threw his arms out. “They’re made by completely different things.”

“You’re insufferable,” Keith groaned. “Are you sure you don’t just have a secret foot fetish and you’re trying to peep my toes?”

“Maybe I do, you’ll never know.”

“God, I’d hope not.”

“Keith,” Lance said his face completely serious, “take your shoes off.”

Keith stared at Lance for a few long beats. “Fuck, fine,” Keith sighed, toeing off his shoes and socks. “Happy, Foot Fetish?”

“Very,” Lance quipped, “now let’s go.”

Keith sighed and followed Lance down onto the sand.

Now, Keith would never admit this out loud, but Lance was right. The sand on the beach was way finer than the sand in the Texan desert. And while yes, the sand in Texas got into everything, it was coarse enough that you could eventually get it out. But this sand was tiny and Keith knew he’d be carrying around beach sand forever if he didn’t take his shoes off.

Plus the sand felt kinda nice under the soles of his feet; moving and shaping around his foot as he and Lance walked along the shore, their shoes swinging from their fingertips between them.

A cool breeze blew past them off the ocean and Keith couldn’t help but breathe in deeply. The fresh air felt cleansing deep in his lungs and Keith somehow felt lighter.

Lance shivered next to him. “That wind is kinda chilly, isn’t it?” He commented, hugging his arms around himself.

“I guess,” Keith said back, feeling the wind against his face, his body protected by his leather jacket. “Are you cold?”

Lance shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said, then a few moments later amended with, “A little.”

Keith let out an amused huff, shrugging off his jacket and handing it to Lance. “Here.”

Lance stared at the jacket for a moment. “Lance take it,” Keith said, shaking the jacket a little.

“But, won’t you be cold?” Lance continued to stare at the offered jacket. Keith, for whatever reason, noticed that Lance’s eyes glittered under the starlight.

“No, I’m fine, take it,” Keith shoved the jacket into Lance’s chest, forcing him to grab it.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, fuck,” Keith complained. “Try to do a nice thing for a guy and they just second guess you.”

Lance snorted lightly and shrugged on the jacket. It was a little tight in the shoulders and the sleeves were barely long enough to cover Lance’s noodle arms, but other than that it was a good fit.

Lance’s cheeks flushed and he ducked his head. “Thanks, Keith.”

Keith felt his cheeks flush a little and so he looked away. “Sure.”

The boys continued to walk along the dark beach, their shoes dangling from their fingertips and their feet digging against the the sand as water rushed up to meet them. Keith let his toes dip into the cold water as they walked against the shore.

“So,” Keith started, peeking at Lance from the corner of his eye. “This is the beach, huh?”

“Yeah, but like people usually come during the day,” Lance nodded, his hands shoved into Keith’s jacket pockets.

“Coming here at night was your idea,” Keith’s voice was deadpan, but he couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

“Okay, yeah, whatever, Mullet,” Lance stammered. He leaned down and scooped a handful of water at Keith.

Keith didn’t shriek, no matter what Lance said, but he did lean down and scoop water at Lance. Lance laughed, an indignant “hey!” floating into the air as he started scooping water at Keith as fast as he could. Keith scooped back as hard and as fast as Lance was.

Their laughter floated into the night air, the moon smiling down on them. 

* * *

The beach might one be of the best places Keith’s ever been to. There’s peace between the sounds of waves crashing, the scent of salt on the air, and pale moonlight on the sand.

Lance was quiet next to him where they crashed on a lookout bench. His breaths matched the ebb and flow of the sea and Keith couldn’t help but feel soothed by it. Soothed by the steady rhythm of Lance and sea and late night sky.

The boys had been together all night, from bowling lessons, to exciting bike rides, to salt-shaker incidents, to little benches on the beach. They’d been together all afternoon and into the night. They’d talked and laughed and teased each other relentlessly, and now, they sat quietly next to each other, taking in the bright sky and dark ocean. The silence was comfortable between them and Keith found himself almost welcoming it.

Lance had his arm thrown lazily over the back of the bench they crashed on, his head tilted back and his eyes closed as the sea breeze pushed through his hair. There was a startling beauty about him. About the way Lance’s eyes were blue enough to be the veins under Keith’s skin. About the way Lance’s skin shone like white gold under the moonlight. About the way his smile lingered on his cheeks, but melted away from his eyes.

And this night—under the stars and by the sea—could almost be perfectly romantic if it weren’t for the fact that this was all fake.

_ Are you sure you guys are faking it? _

Pidge’s words brought a shiver down Keith’s spine.

_ Of course. _

Lance and Keith were faking it. They weren’t a couple. They were friends. Friends who were trying to get their respective crushes to notice them. There was nothing between them.

Right?

“We did good today,” Lance said into the night air, his eyes still closed. “Extra lovey-dovey.”

“You mean extra gross,” Keith corrected, watching the way his feet dug into the sand.

“That too,” Lance chuckled, bumping his shoulder against Keith’s. After a few beats he said, “Keith?”

“Mmm, yeah?” Keith said, still looking at his feet in tepid interest.

“I’m glad you said yes,” Lance mumbled under his breath so quietly Keith barely heard it.

“Said yes to what?” Keith asked, his toes stopped digging.

“To dating me,” Lance said, and then immediately stuttered, “Fake dating! I meant that. I’m glad you said yes to fake date me even if it’s a terribly shitty idea.”

“It’s not terribly shitty, calm down,” Keith said with a shrug. “Why are you thanking me?” Keith went back to his digging, “Did Allura say something?”

“No, I just feel like it’s brought us closer,” Keith felt more than saw Lance shrug. “It’s like I’m getting to seeing the real you,” Lance explained.

Keith felt his brows furrow. “What does that mean? The real me.”

Lance let out a little laugh, “Wow, that came out way more emo when you say it.” He paused and Keith rolled his eyes.

Lance didn’t start up again until Keith looked at him. “The real you is this funny guy who’s just really  _ really  _ socially awkward, I think. And once you get past that, you’re a really good person, Keith.” Keith felt his face flush while Lance looked away with a tsk. “I don’t get how Shiro doesn’t see that…he’s been there for you since day one. He should know everything about you like the back of his hand.”

“Shiro doesn’t know everything about me,” Keith muttered, pursing his lips to the side.

Lance still didn’t look at him, his eyes focused on something far away in the opposite direction of Keith. “Oh yeah?” Lance finally looked at Keith, “What about me? Do I know everything?”

Keith felt himself give a little annoyed shrug. “Lance, I don’t think one person can know everything about another.”

Lance stared at Keith for a few long minutes; a question Keith couldn’t parse stood stagnant in the deep blue pools of his irises. Lance let out a deep sigh saying, “I guess you’re right.”

When Lance looked back up, he was smiling. It was genuine, but the light that shone so brightly from the depths of Lance didn’t reach his eyes. He looked...lost.

But it was hard to tell with Lance sometimes. He seemed open and carefree, but the more time Keith spent with him, the more layers he realized Lance had. He was the strangest guy Keith had ever met in his entire life—and Keith’s met a bunch of different people with some of the quirkiest quirks imaginable.

Maybe Lance was right and he was getting to see the real him.

Not just the Lance who wore his heart on his sleeve or flirted with anything with a heartbeat. But the Lance who had twenty different types of smiles. The Lance who never shut up about his family, but left out so many details. The Lance who never  _ actually _ talked about what he was really feeling. The Lance who wore a very carefully constructed mask held together through force of will and glitter glue.

This new Lance was an entire enigma to Keith.

And that begged the question, did Keith really know Lance?

Know him in the way he seemed to know Keith?

Fuck, the night air must have been getting to them.

“Lance,” Keith’s voice cut through the night air.

“Yeah?” Lance opened his eyes to the stars.

“Let’s go home.”

“Alright.”

* * *

 

Keith thought about the pale moon. He wondered if the light could reach the bottom of the ocean; if mermaids and angler fish knew the way the silver light could cut across brown skin. He wondered if they knew the way stars glittered in too blue eyes.

He wondered if they knew how one boy could almost fall in love with two other ones.

* * *

 

Lance stepped off Keith’s bike, Keith following a second after, both of them pulling off their helmets with varying degrees of grace. 

“This is my place,” Lance rocked back onto his heels.

“I know, Lance,” Keith couldn’t keep the smile off his face, even if he tried. “I’ve been here before.”

“Right,” Lance shook his head. He stared at the helmet in his hands for a few moments before thrusting it at Keith. “This is yours.”

Keith took the helmet and stowed it away. “It is.”

“Why is this so awkward?” Lance sighed.

“Probably because you started the conversation with the most awkward thing you could think of saying,” Keith deadpanned.

“Hey,” Lance squacked, “don’t pin this on me! This conversation goes two ways, there bucko!”

“Bucko?” Keith shook his head, fondly amused. “I thought I left Texas.”

“You bring out the worst in me,” Lance quipped. They both laughed.

“You wanna come upstairs? Grab some water or something?” Lance rocked on his heels again.

“Lance, it’s almost midnight and I’m opening BOM tomorrow morning,” Keith shook his head, his lopsided smile still pinned in place.

“Right,” Lance nodded, “Okay, so I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, when’re you taking your break tomorrow?”

“Probably like 10am,” Keith cocked an eyebrow at Lance, “Why?”

Lance shrugged, a boyish smile toying with his lips, “I don’t know. I think someone might stop by.”

“Lance,” Keith groaned, “My break is so I can have a few minutes to myself.” Keith shoved Lance’s shoulder playfully.

Lance let out a chuckle and reached up to ruffle Keith’s hair. “Whatever, I’m crashing your Keith Time. Get over it.”

“All my Keith Time is turning into Lance Time,” Keith pushed Lance again, flicking him gently on the nose this time.

Lance laughed, “Lance Time is always fun time.”

“Okay,” Keith said, voice dripping in sarcasm. “Says Lance.”

Lance shrugged, a smile high on his cheeks, his eyes glittering again. They stared at each other for a few beats, until their wide smiles dimmed to normal sized ones and their cheeks no longer ached.

“You know Keith, I really admire you,” Lance finally said out of nowhere.

“What, why?” Keith’s eyebrows shot up.

Lance shrugged, “I don’t know. You're you. No matter what you do, no matter how you change, it doesn't mean a thing. You're just you, no matter what.” Lance’s smile was a little lopsided then, his eyes a little sad. “And...and I guess I just admire you for that.”

“Thanks,” Keith felt something shift in his chest. “Thanks, Lance.”

* * *

Keith shuffled around in his bed, feeling both too hot and too cold. His bed was too stiff and too fluffy. No matter which way Keith layed, he was always uncomfortable. Keith couldn’t get thoughts of the beach out of his head. The way seafoam washed up onto the surf, the way the water shined in the night sky like some living, black beast, the way Lance rolled up the hem of his jeans.

The way he laughed under the stars.

The way he glowed in the moonlight

The way Keith felt standing next to him. 

How warm Keith’s cheeks felt despite the cool night air. How he felt like if he dropped his smile for one second, the world would end. How laughter bubbled, unbidden from his chest, but so, so welcome.

The way Lance said he admired him.

Keith sighed and flopped onto his back to stare at the ceiling.

Nothing was helping.

So, Keith decided to at least not be bored and alone, turning to his phone and grabbing it off the charger.

Keith opened Instagram to see if there were any new updates. There wasn’t anything new other than a few new memes posted in the last couple of hours. Keith sighed again, and decided to watch the Instagram stories.

Keith could count on one hand how many times he’d watched these and all of the times he has, he’s been incredibly bored like he was then.

Keith clicked through useless promo stuff on the meme account’s story, more than a little annoyed at all the random shit they posted. Keith was clicking through the posts so quickly, he almost skipped over the video Pidge posted that alternated between Lance’s salt fries and Lance’s devastated face. Keith let out a little chuckle, a warm little bloom of  _ something _ unfurling in his chest.

Next was a bunch of videos that Hunk posted from their bowling adventure. Most of them were of Lance and his ridiculous trick shots. Keith couldn’t help feeling a little impressed at how well Lance could bowl. Especially because apparently, Lance was only so good at bowling because of all the little kid birthday parties he went to as a kid—and still goes to—for all his little niblings. Hunk even included a cute little clip of Lance attempting to teach Keith how to bowl, the clip ending with Keith somehow managing to score a spare. Video-Keith and video-Lance cheered, turned to each other, their arms thrown in the air.

Keith was so caught up in watching the video, he forgot what happened next, watching video-Keith grab video-Lance on both sides of his face, smashing their mouths together in an excited kiss.  

The video ended and a very cute group photo of the six of them all squished into the booth at Vrepit Sal’s popped up, but Keith was still reliving that kiss.

The way Keith had felt excitement pounding his heart through his chest, the way Lance’s warm hands guided Keith’s, the way Lance’s chest pressed into Keith’s back, the way Lance spoke low into Keith’s ear as he gave little tips.

After Hunk’s story was Lance’s, a selfie of Lance and Keith sitting on a bench on the beach, the lights from Coney Island shining dreamily in the distance. Lance was smiling wide, his cheek pressed into Keith’s. And for a moment, Keith couldn’t believe that he was the one in the picture; his face was so soft and fond, Keith didn’t think he’d ever be able to look at someone like that. Especially not someone like Lance.

Someone who chewed loudly and talked louder. Someone who bragged constantly and barely let anyone else get a word in edgewise. Someone who was so shallow and self-centered.

Except, after today, Keith knew that while yes, Lance did chew loudly and talk louder, he was mostly doing it so other people could feel comfortable around him. He bragged and rambled, because if the attention was on him, it wasn’t on someone who didn’t want it. And he seemed shallow and self-centered, but he was always talking about his family, or making jokes to make his friends smile.

Because Lance wasn’t actually that bad.

Annoying? Yes.

Obnoxious? Absolutely.

A self-centered asshole who thinks of no one, but himself? Never.

With that, Keith clicked on Lance’s Instagram, pulling up his profile. There were a few pictures of their bowling, diner, beach adventure that Keith hadn’t seen yet, so he double tapped them, dropping obligatory likes.

Except the likes Keith kept dropping didn’t feel so obligatory anymore. Keith rolled his eyes at himself before dropping his phone onto the bed beside himself.

Keith needed to get his shit together.

Then, like an idiot, he glanced at his phone, Lance’s Instagram still open. There was a link to Lance’s Vsco.

Keith felt himself sigh. Of course Lance had Vsco; only thots and hipsters have Vsco, and everyone knows which category Lance fell into.

But before Keith could even think about it, he’d clicked on the link, Lance’s Vsco loading up absurdly fast. Dark caramel skin caught Keith’s attention and he scrolled down only to come face to face with a picture of Lance laying naked on his bed, his dick only covered by a loose sheet. His arms were thrown back behind his head, his fingers toying with the metal of the headboard as he sent the camera this smouldering bedroom smirk.

Keith felt his face heat and his pants become tighter as his eyes caught on the dark hair leading below the sheet. Lance had his thighs spread wide, the caramel skin stark against the white of the sheet piled haphazardly between them. Keith noticed Lance was almost hairless, so he must shave, or wax, or  _ something _ , because his skin was perfect.

Keith wondered what it would feel like to run his hands down Lance’s thighs. He wondered if they’d tense under his touch; the muscle bunching and releasing, leaving the flesh beneath Keith’s hands warm and solid.

Keith wondered what it would feel like to have those thighs wrapped around his head as Keith sucked Lance’s dick into his mouth.

Keith wondered what Lance would sound like; if he would cry, high pitched and breathy; or if he’d let out low grunts and long groans.

Keith wondered how big Lance was. If he would fill Keith’s mouth and push into his throat. If he would sit hot and heavy on his tongue.

Keith wondered, and wondered, and wondered, gazing at the acres of bronze skin on the screen before him as he palmed himself through his sweats.

(Keith didn’t want to admit it, but Lance was really doing it for him right now. Under all the layers of flannels and sweatshirts and jackets, Lance was toned. He definitely wasn’t no Shiro, but damn, Lance was attractive.)

Keith scrolled to the next picture, this time it was a black and white picture of Lance from the bottom of his ribs to about mid-thigh. He was wearing these tiny, cotton short shorts, his stomach flat and toned and his dick bulge clearly visible and making Keith’s mouth water.

Keith pulled himself out of his pants and let out a groan as he tugged lightly, feeling his cock swell under his fingers. He  bit his lip as he swiped his palm up to his sensitive cockhead, letting precum dribble over his hand with every rub. Keith gazed at Lance’s smooth skin and impressive bulge, Keith’s slicked up palm grabbing at his shaft and giving it a few firm tugs that had hot shivers rushing down his spine.

Keith’s thumb flicked down the page again, his breath coming in pants as he worked his hand up and down his shaft. A new picture of Lance was on his screen; a mirror selfie with a strategically placed shampoo bottle covering his cock. 

Keith felt his legs spread and his hand speed up, losing himself a little bit as he ran his thumb under the sensitive head of his dick. He took a little extra time on each upstroke to press into the nerves there, gasping out loud as a hot jolt ran down his legs all the way to the tips of his toes on every pass.

Keith was obsessed, scrolling down again to another picture. It was Lance from the chest down, his slender hand working its way under his briefs. Keith could barely see the top of Lance’s shaft in the photo, but even just that brief peek was enough to send Keith reeling.

Keith wanted to trace the lines of Lance’s chest with his tongue; the dip between Lance’s pecs, the hills and valleys of Lance’s abs, the defined V of Lance’s hips. Keith wanted to wrap his mouth around a nipple; to suck and tease it with his teeth until it was swollen and red and Lance was begging for more. Keith wanted to place hot, open mouthed kisses down his belly until his mouth was hovering over Lance’s cock. Until Lance was begging him to suck him down.

Fuck, Keith felt almost suspended in time as he gazed at the planes of Lance’s tan chest. As he remembered what that chest felt like pressed up against his back. As he remembered what those hands felt like on his face, on his chest, on his hips.

Keith closed his eyes and imagined a different hand working his cock. One with longer, more slender fingers. One with smoother skin and shorter nails. He imagined a mischievous smile, lopsided and full of white teeth. Keith imagined blue eyes that glittered under a sky full of stars and a mouth that told him he admired him.

Keith’s cock pulsed and tensed and Keith’s mouth gaped in a silent groan as he spilled into his hand.

Keith’s chest heaved, cum spider-webbing between his fingers and his mind blank for a few blissful moments. Keith felt his sweat cooling on his skin and his lips ached from biting them. Then, as if a match had been dropped onto kerosene, his face burned at the realization of what he just did.

“Fuck,” Keith sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Karlee:  
> [Personal Tumblr](https://sunscreams.tumblr.com)  
> [Voltron Tumblr](https://klancend.tumblr.com)  
> Dee:  
> [Tumblr](https://vampingqueen.tumblr.com)  
> [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/deadkid_draws/)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith takes a break from the drama and tries to get his life back on track. Lance has a different idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, Karlee here, and I just wanna say, thank you so much for all the lovely comments you guys leave. Truly they not only make the chapters better, but give us so much motivation. Thanks again, guys, for being so chill with our update schedule. I would like to go back to weekly, but with midterms happening for me over the next two weeks, it's just not possible. So, we can expect the next update to come out on Oct. 19. 
> 
> As always, I'd like so send a special thanks to our beta, [Jocc](https://glalaxy-gayrrison.tumblr.com).

Thankfully it was slow at the Beans of Marmora when Keith opened the next day. His head pounded from his lack of sleep, only managing to catch something like four fitful hours after his...vsco incident. At the memory, Keith felt a hot flash of first arousal, then intense shame. 

It was bad enough to jack off to someone Keith knew, but the fact that it was  _ Lance _ made Keith want to curl up into a ball in some abandoned dark place and never be found. Keith would have to see Lance soon: probably in a few hours if what Lance had said about coming in on Keith’s break had been true. And the thought of facing Lance at any moment, made Keith feel...dirty, almost.

He felt like a creep. Like he’d somehow violated Lance. Because in a way, he had. Keith used pictures of his  _ friend _ to get off. A friend who didn’t know what Keith had done while looking at those pictures. A friend who he was fake dating to get with another guy.

(A friend, Keith may-or-may-not have started to develop more than platonic feelings for.)

Keith audibly sighed as he half-heartedly poured boiling water over freshly ground beans. Keith scraped some fresh vanilla into the cup and gave it a stir. He shoved the lid onto the to-go cup and passed it to the hipster waiting on the other side of the counter.

The hipster nodded at Keith, one of those polite white people smiles on his face as he accepted the coffee and took off out the door, leaving Keith alone in the shop with Pidge.

Before the hipster had come in, Keith had been half-heartedly telling Pidge about his daily life. Which had significantly gotten more interesting ever since Lance got even more involved in his life.

But something still felt missing somehow. Like there was a hole in his chest that needed filling. And Keith didn’t know how to fill it.

“Maybe you miss Shiro,” Pidge said, sipping her black coffee. “You guys have been joined at the hip since the beginning of time. Call it a withdrawal?”

“I don’t know,” Keith started, wiping down the counter with a wet cloth. “Maybe? Should I start working out with him again?”

The corner of Pidge’s mouth quirked. “Is this your way of asking if you’ve lost muscle definition?”

“Have I?” Keith asked worriedly.

Pidge looked up and down at him, “Hm…your arms  _ are _ looking a little soft…”

Keith glared at Pidge.

“I’m kidding!” Pidge said, her smirk growing as she threw her hands in the air. “Like I said, boy band prettiness.”

“Let that go, please,” Keith said, dunking the recently used coffee filter into the nearest trash can. “But in all seriousness, should I do it?”

“He’s your best friend,” Pidge responded. “So what if you confessed to him in an incredibly embarrassing way?”

“Not helping,” Keith shot Pidge an unimpressed look.

“I’m just saying,” Pidge took another sip of her coffee. “What is your gut telling you?”

Keith sighed and focused on cleaning the steamer. “I don’t know.”

“You do know,” Pidge said, seeing right through Keith, as usual.

Keith sighed again and looked at Pidge. “It’s saying go back.”

“Then go back,” Pidge said, her voice no-nonsense.

“I can’t,” Keith whined, abandoning the pretense of cleaning completely. “What if my dumbass feelings are what’s telling me to go back? What if I go workout with him and I can’t stop myself from staring and I get myself all messed up over him again?”

“Keith,” Pidge leaned forward, her hand cradling her coffee protectively. “Your feelings won’t just evaporate overnight. You’re going to look, and while I’m sure you’re going to feel guilty about it, Shiro won’t hold anything against you. No matter what.”

“I just don’t wanna be that guy.”

“What guy?”

Keith let out a frustrated sigh. “ _ That guy _ ,” he stressed. “The guy that oogles Shiro like he’s a piece of meat and not a person who has thoughts and emotions and can see  _ that guy _ staring like an asshole.”

“The fact that you just said that, automatically makes you not  _ that guy _ ,” Pidge pointed out. Keith rolled his eyes, not really buying it. “Look, Keith, all I’m saying is if you want things to go back to the way things were with him, you have to stop avoiding him.” She takes a sip, “Working out together again could be a good first step.”

Keith felt the fight drain out of him. He shrugged in defeat and said, “Fine, okay. I’ll talk to him.”

“Atta boy, conquer your fears,” Pidge said, patting his shoulder. “Fears who have washboard abs and sharp jawlines.”

Keith whimpered, collapsing down onto the counter.

“Kogane,” Kolivan said, appearing from the backroom, seemingly out of nowhere. “Not on the counters.”

Keith sprang up, embarrassed. “Sorry, sir.”

Pidge just laughed.

* * *

Keith waited until Pidge left to text Shiro. Ducked in a stall in the employee bathroom to avoid Kolivan’s gaze, Keith gathered his courage and sent a message.

**mullet man** _today, 9:12am_  
Hey, Shiro, just wondering if you’re free to work out tonight? 

Keith’s heart was pounding and his palms were sweating and he didn’t know if he could delete messages or take them back, but he wanted to so, so badly.

 **despashiro** _today, 9:14am_  
Hey, haven’t heard from you in a while. What’s up? 

**mullet man** _today, 9:15am_  
Sorry about that. I guess I’ve just been pretty busy with Lance and work recently. 

**mullet man** _today, 9:15am_  
I’m just at work right now. 

**despashiro** _today, 9:16am_  
Kolivan’s gonna kill you if he sees you on your phone. 

**mullet man** _today, 9:16am_  
I’m hiding in the bathroom 

**despashiro** _today, 9:17am_  
Sneaky 

Keith waited for another message, but after a few moments, Keith realized that Shiro might not respond back. Keith didn’t know what to say, so he closed his phone, breathed out a huge sigh of frustration and made his way out of the stall. Just as he was about to wash his hands (even though he didn’t use the toilet), a text came in from Shiro.

**despashiro** _today, 9:20am_  
I’ll let you get back to work before you get killed. But yeah, I’d love to workout later. I’m free around 4:30-ish 

**despashiro** _today, 9:20am_  
If you’re free after that too, we could even grab a bite?? 

Keith hesitated. That was a totally normal thing for them to do before Keith confessed. They’d workout, then they’d grab something to eat, then they’d head over to one of their apartments to play some video games for a bit. Keith used to imagine that was what dating Shiro would be like. That living like that was something that Keith could have.

Except, now he knew otherwise.

And while Keith was ready to start working out with Shiro again, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to go out for dinner, just the two of them, then hang out at Shiro’s place, just the two of them.

So Keith lied.

**mullet man** _today, 9:23am_  
Sorry, I have dinner plans with Lance tonight. We have a reservation or something at 7 

**despashiro** _today, 9:23am_  
Look at you keeping track of your dinner reservations 

**despashiro** _today, 9:23am_  
My little brother’s all grown up 

That sent a pang through Keith, but he responded with:

**mullet man** _today, 9:24am_  
Haha yea. Gotta get back to work. See you at 4-ish. 

* * *

Almost like clockwork, Lance burst into the Beans of Marmora at exactly 9:55am. As soon as Keith saw him though, he felt a strong urge to book it into the back and hide away there, mortification burning its way up Keith’s face in the form of a firetruck blush.

Instead, as Lance strided over to the counter and flopped over it like he owned the place, or something, Keith busied himself wiping down the already spotless counter.

For a few moments, they stood like that: Keith wiping down the counter, not looking at Lance, as Lance lounged on the counter, uncharacteristically quiet. Lance would usually be babbling from the moment the door opened, but today, he just flopped over the counter and sent Keith a long, hard look. Keith couldn’t help, but glance in Lance’s direction and raise his eyebrows.

Keith had to shoot his eyes away sharply though, because Lance tucked his bottom lip behind his teeth, eyebrows furrowed together, and eyes narrowed into slits, and all Keith could see was that exact look on Lance’s face, except laying in rumpled sheets with no clothes on.

“What?” Keith finally asked, a little sharper than he’d meant to.

“Say something,” Lance said, incredibly cryptically.

Keith shook his head, “Why?”

“I need to test a theory,” Lance pulled himself off the counter. “Say, ‘nice moves there, Clint Eastwood.’”

“What? No,” Keith crossed his arms, feeling a scowl move over his face, his blush not going away. “What are you even testing?”

“I binged watched _The_ _Walking Dead_ last night and this morning,” Lance leaned forward to Keith and whispered, “and I think you sound a lot like Steven Yeun.”

“What the fuck,” said Keith.

“I’m just saying,” Lance said, “Glenn’s like the less tense, less broody, funnier version of you.”

Keith rolled his eyes, letting them land on Lance. “So basically you with my voice, then,” Keith said with a frown.

“You think I’m funny?” Lance said with raised brows, a small smile flitting over his lips.

Keith didn’t dare to respond to that, feeling his face heat up. Keith looked away and instead said, “I talked to Shiro today.”

“Oh?” Lance perked up, pulling himself off the counter.

“Yeah,” Keith nodded, looking at the wall, “I think I’m going…to hang out with him again.”

“Oh,” Lance said, voice dropping in a weird way. Keith glanced at him, barely missing Lance’s smile falter. “What spurred this on?”

“I don’t know,” Keith said, crossing his arms and looking away again. “Maybe I’m feeling the guilt of just leaving him in the dust—”

“Or you miss him,” Lance interjected.

“Or I miss him,” Keith deflated, shoulders slumping, finally accepting it.

“Well,” Lance said, his hands on his hips and a smile on his face. “I think that’s a good idea.” Keith looked back at Lance, and noticed that Lance’s smile seemed a bit too thin. “I don’t know how I can live without my best friends. You’ve gone too long without hanging out with Shiro. In fact, I’m surprised that you managed to last this long without him—with or without his blessed godly looks.”

“I can’t believe I’m going to say this,” Keith muttered, “but you’ve been a good distraction.”

_ Maybe too good of a distraction _ , said a voice that sounded awfully like Pidge.

Lance gasped over dramatically, and Keith had to stop himself from wincing, imagining hearing that gasp in a bedroom instead of a shitty coffee shop. “Really?” Lance placed a hand over his heart. 

“Yes,” Keith grit out, trying not to show Lance how fucking weird Keith felt.

“Can you please repeat that? A bit louder?”

“Fuck off,” Keith said.

“Mean!” Lance stuck his tongue out. He then stretched his arms and now Keith couldn’t look away because for the first time since Lance walked in, Keith noticed Lance was not wearing his usually casual street clothes, but instead a sleeveless hoodie and a pair of gym shorts.

_ Put that tongue back in your mouth, boy _ , said that annoying Pidge voice again.

Keith clamped his mouth shut and flitted his eyes away.

Then back.

“Kolivan, I’m going on break,” Keith called, unable to pull his eyes away from the toned bronze skin of Lance’s arms for longer than a few seconds.

“Clock out this time, Kogane,” Kolivan yelled back as he made his way out of the back room.

Keith somehow managed to tear his eyes away from Lance and made his way into the back. He stood in front of his locker for a few minutes, willing the picture of Lance out of his head. The picture of Lance with his thumbs tucked into the waistband of a pair of gym shorts like the ones he was wearing, pulling them low to expose the V of his hips. The picture of Lance’s eyes lidded and his bottom lip caught in his teeth. The picture of Lance’s toned arms reaching around a body—Keith’s body—and his long fingers reaching too for—

Keith slammed his head into his locker, not enough to cause brain damage, but enough to get those thoughts out of his head. He quickly pulled his apron over his head, grabbed his sad ham sandwich he made for himself for lunch and speed walked his way back into the front. Any more time spent with himself and Keith was gonna pop a boner. The Beans of Marmora was really the last place Keith wanted that to happen in.

Keith pointedly clocked out, making angry eye contact with Kolivan the entire time, before he practically jumped the counter in his haste to get away.

“Why do you look like such a hoodrat today?” Keith couldn’t help, but flick Lance’s hood over his eyes.

“Hey!” Lance squawked, “I do not look like a hoodrat.”

“You do,” Keith said, taking a seat at their usual table near the back of the shop.

“I’ll have you know that I am on my way to help coach my cousin’s basketball team, so you better watch it, punk,” Lance took the seat opposite Keith.

“You play basketball?” Keith crooked an eyebrow, absently opening his sandwich.

Lance hums and makes a ‘so-so’ gesture. “When they’re all under five feet, yeah, I play basketball.”

That pulled a chuckle from Keith. “Lance, you’re over six feet, and you’re telling me, you’ll only play when everyone else is much, much shorter than you?”

“Um, yeah,” Lance nodded like it was the most obvious thing in the world. His crooked smirk sending hot thrills through Keith. “That’s the only way it’s fair.”

Keith cleared his throat. “So, you’re saying you have the same skill level in basketball as ten-year-olds?” Keith quipped.

Lance sent over a devastatingly charming smile Keith was unable to look away from. “Fuck, I guess so.”

And as Lance stole the other half of Keith’s sandwich, and took a huge bite, Keith realized again how incredibly fucked he truly was.

* * *

Keith’s hand tightened around the strap of his gym bag, his stomach tying itself up in knots as he spotted Shiro lounging against the front of the fitness center. Shiro was looking down at his phone, his gym bag hefted onto one of his shoulders, his bangs falling into his face.

Keith knew he hadn’t been spotted yet, and he also knew he could just leave. He could just turn around and never have to face the fitness center where he absolutely embarrassed himself beyond recovery, or Shiro, again. Keith wouldn’t have to deal with Shiro’s perfect ass bouncing under his track pants as he ran. Keith wouldn’t have to deal with Shiro’s t-shirt desperately trying to hold itself together under the strain of his toned biceps and his smooth, hard pecs. Keith wouldn’t have to deal with the friendly smile Shiro would inevitably throw his way. Keith wouldn’t have to deal with the way Shiro was going to try and pretend everything was totally normal.

Keith could run from his problems and it would be fine.

Except, Keith was a fully grown, adult man now and he had to deal with his problems, whether he wanted to, or not.

So, with a steadying breath, Keith hiked his bag higher onto his shoulder and made his way over to Shiro.

“Hey, Shiro,” Keith said, coming to a stop a few feet away from him.

“Hey, Keith,” a smile bloomed on Shiro’s face as he pushed off the wall. “I feel like I haven’t talked to you in ages.”

“We saw each other yesterday,” Keith said, remembering how they had in fact been hanging out all day yesterday, but hadn’t really spoken to each other.

“Well,” Shiro said, rubbing his neck sheepishly as he looked away, “I thought I should give you some space.”

Keith stared at Shiro for a few beats. “Give me some space?” Keith repeated, then sighed. Because that’s what he had wanted wasn’t it? He wasn’t ready to face Shiro again and Shiro must have picked up on that and gave Keith the space he needed. The thoughtfulness sent a pang through Keith, but Keith managed to stomp down on the blush that was threatening to bloom across his cheeks.

“I—” Keith cut himself off, sighed again and then said, “Thank you.”

Shiro smiled, “No problem, buddy.” Then he ruffled Keith’s hair and lead him into the gym.

Another painful jolt ran through Keith at the gesture, nothing about it coming off as anything more than familial.

* * *

“So,” Shiro started as he easily benched 330 pounds like it was nothing. “How’re things with you and Lance?”

Keith shrugged, feeling a flush warm the back of his neck as he kept his eyes glued to the bar Shiro was lifting: the perfect spotter.

“Um—” Keith cleared his throat. How did he answer that? It wasn't like they’d had any fights or actual couple problems seeing as how they were, you know,  _ fake _ dating. And it wasn’t like Keith could really ask Shiro for advice on the whole jackin-it-to-pictures-of-his-fake-boyfriend thing because that would totally defeat the point of Lance and Keith fake dating.

“You know,” Keith finally said. “Good.”

Shiro glanced at Keith, an eyebrow cocked. “Okay…” he trailed off. “How come I don’t believe you?”

“I don’t know,” Keith shrugged, “Maybe you’re just a naturally distrustful person.”

Shiro sent Keith an unamused look, “I think out of the two of us here, you take the cake on that one, buddy.”

Keith huffed lightly and looked away.

And that was when it hit him.

Maybe if Keith let Shiro believe that him and Lance were having problems, Shiro would feel the need to comfort Keith and feel justified in asking Keith out!

It was perfect!

So, Keith channeled his inner Meryl (fuck, Lance was really getting to him) and sighed before saying, “Look it’s not really a big deal, but— ” another sigh “—I don’t know.”

Shiro pushed the bar onto the holder and sat up, a concerned look on his face. “What’s going on?”

Keith shrugged. He hadn’t thought this far ahead. Fuck. “He—well— ” Keith sighed frustrated. “It’s not really a big deal, but…” Keith trailed off and thought about what could be annoying him.

“He’s just so excited,” Keith finally went with. “And I mean, at first, it was awesome. We had a lot of fun and we went places all the time, but I just— ” Keith ran a hand through his hair, feeling a little bit less like he was actually acting now. “Like we really do get along well, and I do like him, but is it so wrong for me to just want to have one quiet evening to myself? Or to get some goddamn peace and quiet on my breaks?”

“Because don’t get me wrong, he’s very good looking. Like _very_ good looking," Keith felt a blush work its way up his face. So he looked away from Shiro, and continued, "He really doesn't look like he'd be that good because he looks like a beanpole and dresses like he's still in high school, but under those ill-fitting clothes, he's got good muscle definition, and smooth skin, and freckles.  _Fuck,"_ Keith whispered vehemently, getting way off track, and more than a little heated. Shiro let out a little giggle and Keith shook himself. 

"But that's not the point," Keith crossed his arms across his chest. "He's handsome, and funny, and so, so kind,” Keith steamrolled on. “And he cares about his family and friends so much, and he tries to hide all of this under this asshole persona, but he’s actually just such a good guy. And he gets so excited when he’s around his friends so I understand why he would be that way with me.”

“But I just want some alone time, is that so wrong?” Keith finally finished, feeling a little embarrassed at his outburst.

Shiro crossed his arms, a warm smile taking over his face. “I think you should tell him that.”

Keith felt himself sigh. He should have known that Shiro would never be a homewrecker.  “If I do, he’ll either get super snobby and sassy and start being a total ass, or he’ll get this little sad smile on his face where he’s trying not to show how sad he actually is, and I honestly don’t know which is worse at this point!”

Shiro let out a little chuckle. “You really like him, huh, Keith?”

Keith paused, sending Shiro a confused look. “Why do you say that?”

Shrio just shrugged a little helpless, his face beaming. “You just know him. And you’re pretty fond about it.”

Keith’s eyebrows furrowed, suddenly feeling angry. “I’m not fond about it,” Keith snapped before he could stop himself.

Shiro’s eyebrows shot up onto his forehead, and his smile faded. “What are you then?”

“I’m— ” Keith cut himself off, scowling and turning away. “I’m not that fond,” Keith grumbled.

That got a huff of a laugh out of Shiro. “Whatever you say, James Fond.”

* * *

The next day, a Thursday that is, Keith was once again pouring hot water over organic coffee beans like the good little barista he was. Kolivan was staring over his shoulder and Keith could swear he could feel him breathing down his neck a bit, which was  _ no bueno _ for him.

Creepy boss breathing aside, Kolivan’s hovering meant Keith couldn’t slack off and talk to anyone, and his break was still an hour away.

Keith sighed. It was going to be another uneventful day in the Beans of Marmora. He kind of missed Lance’s spontaneous visits.  _ Kind of.  _ Keith was never going to admit that.

That was until his phone started buzzing.

And like, usually, Keith could handle a few text notifications, maybe even a missed call—letting his phone ring in his pocket until it went to voicemail. A little vibrating in his pocket, Keith could handle.

However the mad vibrations that rivalled his vibrator hidden underneath his mattress were another story.

God, not only did the vibrations make Keith very,  _ very  _ annoyed, but they quickly reminded him that he desperately needed to get laid.

So, with one final angry sigh, Keith gave Kolivan a wry smile and a quick “ _ I-need-to-piss _ ” before briskly walking over the restroom.

He checked his phone and found he had three (3) missed calls from Lance and a barrage of texts.

**forehead** _today, 1:11pm_  
KEITH 

**forehead** _today, 1:11pm_  
HOLY FUCKING SHIT 

**forehead** _today, 1:11pm_  
Oh MY gOD 

**forehead** _today, 1:12pm_  
I REALLY DID IT THIS TIME 

**forehead** _today, 1:12pm_  
I AM SCREWED 

**forehead** _today, 1:12pm_  
AND NOT IN THE GOOD WAY 

**forehead** _today, 1:12pm_  
OH MY GOOOOOOOD 

**forehead** _today, 1:13pm_  
REPLY 

**forehead** _today, 1:13pm_  
REPLY 

**forehead** _today, 1:13pm_  
REPLY 

**forehead** _today, 1:14pm_  
MAYDAY 

**forehead** _today, 1:14pm_  
MAYDAY 

**forehead** _today, 1:14pm_  
THIS IS NOT A DRILL 

**forehead** _today, 1:15pm_  
KEITH FOR THE LOVE OF GOD AND EVERYTHING THAT IS HOLY 

**forehead** _today, 1:15pm_  
PLEASE RESPOND GOD DAMMIT 

**mullet man** _today, 1:16pm_  
what the fuck, what did you do. You’re blowing up my phone. 

**mullet man** _today. 1:16pm_  
I’m at work 

**forehead** _today, 1:16pm_  
Oh thank god 

**forehead** _today, 1:17pm_  
I screwed up big time my dude 

**mullet man** _today, 1:18pm_  
You always screw up???

**mullet man** _today, 1:18pm_  
What is it?

**forehead** _ today, 1:18pm_  
First of all, i take offense to that

**forehead** _ today, 1:18pm_  
Secondly, I may have told my family that I’m dating someone. 

**forehead** _ today, 1:18pm_  
Particularly you. 

**forehead** _ today, 1:18pm_  
Because you’re my boyfriend.

Keith stared at the text, eyes zeroing on the words  _ ‘boyfriend’ _ . He felt something stir in his chest, but he immediately tried to ignore it.

**mullet man** _ today, 1:19pm_  
*fake* boyfriend

**mullet man** _ today, 1:20pm_  
Honestly lance. I don’t know why you’re freaking out. I know you said we shouldn’t tell anyone the real deal about our relationship and like I know you don’t like lying to your family, but like.

**mullet man** _ today, 1:20pm_  
It should be fine. It’s not like I’m going to meet them or anything.

**forehead** _ today, 1:21pm_  
Hahahaha, funny story actually

**mullet man** _ today, 1:21pm_  
What the hell did you do

**forehead** _ today, 1:22pm_  
wELL 

**forehead** _ today, 1:22pm_  
Memorial day is coming up

**forehead** _ today, 1:22pm _  
And like

**forehead** _ today, 1:22pm _  
I’m supposed to spend time with my family at the cabin

**forehead** _ today, 1:22pm _  
And I may have told my mom about your tragic backstory

**forehead** _ today, 1:22pm _  
And you know how she is...

**mullet man** _ today, 1:23pm _  
No I don’t 

**forehead** _ today, 1:24pm _  
She wants me to bring you with me

**forehead** _ today, 1:24pm _  
to the cabin 

**forehead** _ today, 1:24pm _  
with the rest of my family

**forehead** _ today, 1:24pm _  
to meet them

Keith blinked at his screen for a few moments, unable to comprehend what Lance was saying. Because it  _ sounded _ like Lance was asking Keith to go upstate with him to meet his entire family as his fake boyfriend, but Keith knew that couldn’t be it.

That couldn’t be it.

**forehead** _ today, 1:29pm _  
Keith, buddy, 

**forehead** _ today, 1:29pm _  
my moon and stars

**forehead** _ today, 1:29pm _  
apple of my eye

**forehead** _ today, 1:30pm _  
yee to my haw

**forehead** _ today, 1:30pm _  
My man? Are you still there?

**mullet man** _ today, 1:31pm _  
Oh my god. WHAT THE FUCK LANCE.

**mullet man** _ today, 1:31pm _  
Why are you like this!? I can’t meet you family! We’re not actually dating!

**forehead** _ today, 1:32pm _  
I KNOW THAT. I am not a complete idiot!

**mullet man** _ today, 1:32pm _  
Your previous actions really make it hard for me to believe that statement

**forehead** _ today, 1:33pm _  
LISTEN. 

**forehead** _ today, 1:33pm _  
Just

**forehead** _ today, 1:33pm _  
Please do this.

**mullet man** _ today, 1:34pm _  
No

**forehead** _ today, 1:34pm _  
C’mon. Keith, my buddy, my man just think of everything we’ve been through together

**forehead** _ today, 1:34pm _  
I can’t even remember the last time we were all in the same place together. I spent my entire summer working. And they’re gonna expect to meet the person they think I’m DATING.

**forehead** _ today, 1:35pm _  
I’m not ready to look my family in the eye and tell them that their son is just some unlovable loser

Keith didn’t reply for a few minutes, unsure how to continue.

**forehead** _ today, 1:37pm _  
Look, Keith, if you really don’t wanna go, I can just tell my mom that you had plans or something and it’ll be fine

**forehead** _ today, 1:37pm _  
But i’d really appreciate it of you’d do me this solid.

Keith felt the stirring feeling of his chest grow stronger. Perhaps it was guilt.

**Forehead,** _ today, 1:38pm _  
Please

Keith took in a huge breath.  _ Patience yields focus _ , his mind supplied. He took a few more deep breaths and pretended that this was happening to someone else. Someone far away and not in some shitty indie hipster coffee shop. But unfortunately, Keith returned to Earth and was still the poor soul who was stuck in this predicament.

He let out a sigh through his nose and typed:

**mullet man** _ today, 1:39pm _  
Fine

**forehead** _ today, 1:39pm _  
Oh my god thank you thank you thank you

**mullet man** _ today, 1:40pm _  
You owe me

**forehead** _ today, 1:40pm _  
Of course my dude

Keith locked his phone and knocked his head against the bathroom door—which was probably unsanitary as fuck, but whatever. He let out a sigh, then pulled his shit together and marched out of the bathroom and back onto the floor.

“Long piss, Kogane,” Kolivan remarked as Keith put his apron back on.

“It be like that sometimes, sir,” Keith quipped back, washing his hands before grabbing the closest cup and getting to work on making it.

As Keith steamed milk, and pumped syrup, and poured coffee, he wondered what he had gotten himself into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little filler-y, but we're starting a new arc in the next update and Dee and I are super excited to get it started! Some classic meet-the-family tropes!! ugh, eat your heart out. 
> 
> Karlee:  
> [Personal Tumblr](https://sunscreams.tumblr.com)  
> [Voltron Tumblr](https://klancend.tumblr.com)
> 
> Dee:  
> [Tumblr](https://vampingqueen.tumblr.com)  
> [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/deadkid_draws/)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith was prepared for a road trip, but was not prepared for Lance's small bladder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Karlee here with an apology with how filler-y this chapter is. That being said, this also has to be one of my absolute favs. I just think everything about Tom DeLonge is hilarious. 
> 
> Anyway, we hope y'all enjoy this chap. Don't forget to check out our lovely [beta](https://glaxy-gayrrison.tumblr.com).

Keith’s phone vibrated on the coffee table, waking him from the shallow snooze Keith had just been slipping into. 

**forehead** _ today, 8:31am _  
I’m here

**forehead** _ today, 8:31am _  
Need help grabbing anything????

Keith squinted at the screen, not understanding the words for a few beats.

**mullet man** _ today, 8:33am _  
We’re going for three days why would I need help carrying anything down???

**forehead** _ today, 8:33am _  
Sorry for trying to be nice

Keith scoffed and pulled himself into a sitting position.

**mullet man** _ today, 8:34am _  
Whatever. I’m on my way down.

Keith shoved his phone into his pocket and rocked onto his feet. He toed on his shoes and shouldered on his jacket, grabbing his backpack as he made his way out of his apartment door. Keith locked the door behind him and meandered down the stairs.

“Fucking finally,” Lance sighed as Keith pushed his way through the main entrance of the apartment.

Keith rolled his eyes, “I wasn’t that long.”

“You took, like, thirty years,” Lance popped open the trunk of his beat-up, blue Saturn.

“You look great for fifty,” Keith quipped, dropping his bag into the trunk while sending a little smirk over his shoulder to Lance.

“My skincare regimen is flawless,” Lance quipped back, a smirk lighting up his features. Keith found himself unable to look away from Lance for a few beats: the morning sun made his skin glow a soft, dewy gold, his hair lighting up in a halo around his head. Lance was beautiful and Keith was awestruck.

Keith looked away sharply, clearing his throat as he did. “We should probably get going if we wanna be at your parents before dinner.”

Lance cleared his throat as well, looking away and rubbing the back of his neck as he did. “Yeah,” he said, “You know how the roads are at this time of day.”

Keith nodded, a little awkwardly before saying, “Switch every two hours?”

“Sure,” Lance shrugged. They stared at each other for a few beats, smile creeping up their faces.

Keith cleared his throat again and got in the car, breaking whatever was building between them, Lance following not too far behind.

“Okay, so I’m driving first, so obviously I get to choose the music,” Lance declared, picking up his phone, already connected via aux cord to the stereo.

“I swear to God, if you play some stupid-ass pop music for the next two hours I will jump out of the car,” Keith threatened.

“Well I wasn’t going to, but you make such a convincing argument otherwise,” Lance looked up briefly from his music selection on his phone before tapping the screen, causing the Spice Girls “Wannabe” to blast from the shitty car speakers.

“ _ Yo! I’ll tell you what I want / what I really, really want,” _ Lance started singing, and jamming in the driver’s seat as he put the car in gear and drove out of the parking lot.

Keith rolled his eyes and looked out the window, but couldn’t hide the smile that was blooming across his face.

“Awe, c’mon Grumpy Spice, who doesn’t love this song?” Lance whined over the music.

“Lance, I don’t think anyone genuinely likes this song,” Keith quipped.

“As if!” Lance exclaimed, “This is a classic earworm.”

“Yeah, which is why people hate it,” Keith shot back, no real bite to his words.

“Whatever,” Lance rolled his eyes theatrically then grabbed his phone as they pulled up to a red light. He scrolled through it for a second. “I bet this is what you like,” he tapped his screen and that one fucking G note played.

Keith groaned and Lance cackled, letting “Welcome to the Black Parade” by MCR play as he rolled forward when the light turned green. Keith burrowed into his jacket, a blush washing up his face as he was forced to remember his horribly embarrassing emo tween years.

“God, Lance this is so much worse,” Keith groaned, remembering the fucking eyeliner and the  _ red streak _ he tried out.

Lance laughed, “You mean this isn’t on your downloaded music right now?”

“Oh my god, Lance please, this is so embarrassing,” Keith pressed his hands over his face, the smile somehow still not leaving his face. He’d asked his foster mom at the time if she could take him to get a  _ lip piercing _ .

“No, this is hilarious,” Lance kept his eyes on the road as he absently jammed. “What little memories are you hiding, Mullet?”

“Oh my god, no. If I tell you, you’ll never let it go,” Keith reached for Lance’s phone and pressed the next button, causing “Thnks fr th Mmrs” by Fall Out Boy to play, making Keith’s embarrassment even worse.

“Ahh, c’mon ‘Black Parade’ is actually such a jam,” Lance glanced at Keith who just sent him a glare from between his fingers. “What, did you have some horrible emo experience as a kid?” Keith just glared harder and Lance gasped dramatically, “You did!” Lance squirmed in his seat, letting out a cute little excited squeal. “Let me guess! Was there a lot of sighing and eye-rolling?”

“Lance, I’ll kill you,” Keith pulled himself out of his ball, only to level a glare at him, still, somehow meaning none of it.

“Ooh, did you do the whole gay-eyeliner thing?” Lance glanced back at Keith, then at the road.

Keith sighed, feeling the fight go out of him. He rolled his eyes and sighed. “It really should have been my first clue,” Keith pauses, furrowing his brows, “That and the Pete Wentz poster I was obsessed with.”

Lance barked out a laugh at that one, “Oh my god, Keith, that’s precious!”

“There was a red streak too,” Keith sighed, looking out the window. Somehow, it felt almost... _ fun _ telling Lance about his embarrassing past.

Lance let out a snort of laughter, “Oh my god.” Keith rolled his eyes and pressed next on Lance’s phone again, this time “I Miss You” by Blink-182 played and Keith felt a smile take over his face.

“Do you have an emo playlist or something?” Keith asked.

“Um, of course I do. Have you met me?” Lance deadpans.

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” Keith shook his head, bobbing his head along to the music. While a lot of super embarrassing memories come with these songs, the sound of them brings him back to a time in his life where things were good for a while. He’d just met Shiro through a Big Brother program, and the foster home he’d been in at the time had been particularly awesome. Keith ended up leaving them, only because they had to move to Amsterdam or something for his at-the-time foster dad’s job. Keith still received Christmas cards from them.

“ _ Hello, there, _ ” Keith and Lance both started singing as the lyrics started. Lance turned to Keith briefly with a huge smile on his face as they both continued, “ _ The angel from my nightmare / The shadow from the background of a morgue. _ ”

The two of them sang the lyrics to the song, smiles on their faces as they rumbled down the highway leading them out of the city. Lance dramatically sang along to the low  _ I miss you _ ’s, making Keith let out a few chuckles.

“Oh, god this is my favourite part,” Keith said, just before Tom DeLonge started the next verse. “ _ Where are you, and I’m so sorry / I cannot sleep, I cannot dream tonight. _ ”

“You know, Tom DeLonge is the reason I wanted a lip piercing when I was 14,” Keith said, a smile taking up his face as he continued to jam with Lance.

“Oh my god, you what?” Lance gasped.

Keith felt himself laugh, despite himself. “Yeah, I thought it was cool.”

“Oh my god, you are blessing me with Keith Facts today,” Lance mimed the Catholic Father-Son-Holy Spirit gesture.

Keith rolled his eyes, “What can I say? I thought it was kinda hot, so when I turned 16 I went out and got one anyway.”

“Wow,” Lance glanced in Keith’s direction, a strange look in his eyes. “A metal fetish, Keith?” Lance teased, and Keith rolled his eyes again.

“That’s not a real thing,” Keith said.

“Oh please, it’s totally a thing,” Lance shot back.

“It’s not, I know you made that up just now.”

“Yeah, and I willed it into existence,” Lance flailed one hand as he explained, the other on the wheel. “Therefore, it’s totally a thing.”

“Doesn’t that make you the metal fetishist?”

“Fuck,” Lance whispered vehemently. “Wait, do you still have it?”

“Have what?” Keith cocked his head.

“The lip ring?” Lance clarified, looking out the windshield.

“Yeah, I just don’t wear it that much anymore,” Keith absently ran his tongue along where his piercing used to sit.

“Why not?” Lance asked.

“BOM has a policy against facial piercings,” Keith tsked, “Some bullshit about professionalism or something.”

“That sucks,” Lance glanced at Keith again. He cleared his throat, “You should wear it again. It would suit you.”

Keith felt his smile grow, “Metal fetishist.”

“Whatever,” Lance sighed. Then, after a few beats of silence, said, “Hey, wait, didn’t Tom DeLonge leave Blink-182 because aliens told him to?”

Keith barked out a laugh, “Yes!” Keith laughed some more. “Yeah, the band broke up a while ago and the official Blink-182 twitter said it was because of differences of opinion or something and then Tom fucking comes out with ‘It was aliens’. Like, I believe in aliens, but c’mon.”

Lance laughed and sent a soft look that Keith couldn’t really upack. Then Lance chuckled again, shaking his head and looking away.

* * *

“Hey, Keith,” Lance said.

“Yeah?” Keith had his nose buried in a book, just getting to a good part.

“Can you check how far until the nearest rest stop or bathroom?”

Keith looked at Lance, then at the digital clock on the dash. They’d been on the road for less than an hour.

“You didn’t go before we left?” Keith felt oddly like a mom asking that.

Lance sighed, “Yeah, I did, actually. I’ve just been cursed with a bladder the size of a pea. Please do your navigator duties so I don’t have to pull over on the fucking interstate and piss on the road in broad daylight.”

Keith stared at Lance for a few beats, face absolutely blank, before he said, “Shit, okay,” and pulled out his phone, and got to work looking for a gas station or something.

* * *

“Hey, Keith?”

“I swear to go, if you have to piss again, I’m going to kill you.”

“I have to piss again.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“At least I won’t have to piss again.”

* * *

“You’re lucky we needed gas this time,” Keith said as Lance came out of the gas station, a bag of travel snacks in hand.

Lance rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry I can’t be as lucky as you and have a bladder the size of an Olympic grade swimming pool.”

“It’s actually more like the size of a large reservoir, but good try,” Keith shot back as the pump in his hand clicked, signifying the tank full.

“Size of a reservoir,” Lance mocked in a high pitched whining voice as he ducked into the passenger side. Keith let out a small laugh as he shook out the excess gas into the tank and then placed the pump back in the receiver, pressing ‘no’ to needing a receipt. Keith twisted on the cap and closed the gas tank cover, before sliding into the driver’s seat.

“Almost $60 for a full tank,” Keith said as he buckled himself in, “Not bad, honestly.”

“Yeah, I mean she’s old as fuck, but she runs pretty well,” Lance said, “Check this out,” and he he leaned over into Keith’s space and pressed a button on the dash. The odometer changed form a ridiculously high number, that Keith had not been paying attention to, to a much smaller one: 321mi.

“I reset this every time I get gas, so, on a full tank we got about, hmm,” Lance paused, humming to himself, probably doing some mental math like a genius, but Keith is too caught up on the lungful of Lance’s cologne he just inhaled.

“That’s about 20 miles a gallon,” Lance finally said, pressing the button down, resetting the odometer. “Not bad, for a Saturn.”

Lance finally pulled away and Keith clears his throat, willing the blush he can feel forming away. “Yeah, not bad.”

Keith started the car and drives out of the stall, heading back for the main road.

“So,” Keith started, still feeling a little awkward from Lance’s closeness. “What did you end up buying?”

“Oh, yeah!” Lance reached down to his feet and brough the bad into his lap. “You know, average roadtrip snacks like Doritos, Redbull, and, of course, beef jerky.”

“You don’t get a Redbull, Mr. Pea-Sized-Bladder.”

“Okay, fuck off,” Lance laughed popping open both Red Bulls, setting one in a cup holder for Keith and taking a swig from the other.

Keith reached down and took a sip from his Redbull as Lance opened a bag of Doritos and started munching, absently bobbing his head to the music as he watched the scenery go by. Keith watched Lance from his perishery for a few minutes, and decided, even with Dorito dust on his shirt, Lance was still pretty cute.

“So,” Keith cleared his throat, and tightened his hand on the wheel. “Tell me about your family. I just realized I’m going in blind.”

“Right,” Lance said, sitting up straighter in his seat, a big smile blooming across his face as he licked the Dorito dust off his fingers, and pulled them out with a pop. Keith’s face heated, watching as Lance’s lips wrapped around his slender fingers, his mouth leaving his fingers shining with spit.

Keith focused back on the road.

“Okay, so what do you wanna know?” Lance asked, eyes glancing towards Keith.

“Just, um,” Keith paused, realizing he didn’t really know much about how families worked in the first place, let alone Lance’s. “Maybe, just try starting with their names?” It came out a little more like a question than Keith would have liked.

“Right, so let’s start with Marco,” Lance said, tapping his fingers. “He’s 25, so that makes him the oldest of my siblings. He got married about two years ago and has two kids.”

“Woah, young,” Keith couldn’t help, but say.

Lance let out a little laugh, “Yeah, no kidding.” He shook his head a little, a smile on his face. “The twins were sort of an accident that happened in his third year of college, but,” Lance shrugged, “I don’t think any of us would have done it any differently.”

Keith nodded, tapping his fingers on the wheel. “That’s really sweet.”

“It’s family, you know?” Lance shrugged again, “I mean, my dad was a little more than pissed off when he heard the news, but he loves those kids, and Cora—Marco’s wife—she’s awesome. Honestly, I’m pretty sure everyone likes her more than they like Marco.”

Lance let out a little chuckle and Keith followed. “So, I’m guessing that the niece and nephew you talk about all the time, they’re his kids?”

“Yeah! Danica and Nicolas, the cutest twins alive,” Lance looked down at his hands fidgeting in his lap, a fond smile on his face. “It’s probably a McClain thing: twins. Like, my dad’s a twin, and there’s me and Luis.”

“You’re a twin?” Keith couldn’t help but shoot a look at Lance.

“Yep,” Lance said chipperly. “Double the trouble.”

“Oh my God, there’s two of you,” Keith muttered, more to himself than anything as he looked back to the highway.

Lance cackled, “Nah, we may be identical twins, but Luis is a stick in the mud; he’s totally boring.” Lance leaned over in his seat and waved a hand through the air dismissively.

“I highly doubt that considering he literally shares the same, exact DNA as you,” Keith rolled his eyes as he watched the road.

“Are you telling me you think I’m interesting?” Lance teased and Keith felt his face warm. Because that was definitely what he meant, wasn’t it?

“Yeah, interesting in the same way car accidents or local tragedies are,” Keith stared out the windshield, ignoring his blush because if Keith pretended it wasn’t there, maybe it would disappear.

“Ouch,” Lance said, pressing a hand to his chest, perhaps a tad too dramatically. “For your information, I am, in fact, the cooler, grizzled, slightly older brother,” Lance then flexed one of his arms and Keith had to roll his eyes, even though he kind of really wanted to just stare.

“Something about the way you phrased that makes me believe you’re lying,” Keith teased, again, ignoring his warm ears.

Lance narrowed his eyes, “You know what, Mullet Boy?”

“What,” Keith deadpanned.

“You suck.”

Keith rolled his eyes again, feeling horribly charmed. “Tell me more about your family, doofus.”

Lance’s face morphed into something that Keith would call a supernova in its brightness. “Right, yeah, okay, so, right after Marco, we got my older sister Veronica.”

Oh, Keith knew this one. Lance was always talking about Veronica. They texted each other at least five times a day. “You’re closest with her, right?” Keith tilted his head to the side. “I think you mention her a lot…Ronnie?”

“Oh yeah, good ole’ Pepperonnie,” Lance said, laughing at the nickname. “She’s gay as fuck like you, so you’ll get along great.”

“Oh gee, that’s swell,” Keith deadpans. “The rainbow has definitely done its job of establishing a bond between two strangers.”

“It be like that sometimes,” Lance quipped.

Keith snorted, a smile cracking open his face.

“But, like, I’m pretty sure me and Rache are the only ones that know,” Lance’s sunny smile dimmed. “I only know because she helped me during my bi crisis, and I don’t know how Rache knows, but…” Lance paused, his shoulders slumping and a sigh leaving him. “I don’t wanna say that my dad’s a bad guy, because he’s not. He’s my dad and I love him, but he can sure be ignorant sometimes. Like when I was fourteen and Ronnie was sixteen, she tried coming out to our parents. Mom has always been super cool about it, but dad...not so much. And he was getting kinda horrible about it, and Ronnie was gonna cry and I panicked and said, ‘She’s talking about me, I’m bi.’ And that went about as well as you’d expect.”

Keith grew up gay in Texas. Keith knew what homophobia looked like. He knew the things people said, he knew the things people threw, he knew the things people did to kids like him. Keith knew.  _ God _ , did Keith know, and the thought of little, fourteen year old Lance having to take that from his  _ dad _ , made Keith sick.

Keith wanted to punch Lance’s dad in the face. He wanted to yell and scream and holler at the universe, begging to know why they would put something like that on someone as beautiful, and caring, and selfless as Lance.

But instead of pulling over the car and screaming into the sky like Keith wanted, he just said, “Lance,” his voice barely louder than a whisper and more than a little pained.

Lance tsked, “Don’t ‘Lance’ me. It wasn’t that bad. He wasn’t, like, hateful or anything, he’s just ignorant. And like sure, it’s not ideal, but it’s also not that bad. My mom and Veronica helped a lot.”

Keith felt his eyebrows furrow deeper as he glanced at Lance. Keith didn’t know what he was looking for. A crack in his resolve, a fissure maring his confidence, a shadow of doubt clouding his sense of self, anything. Anything that could show Keith that Lance wasn’t as okay as he said he was.

Lance must have seen something on Keith’s face because he said, “Honestly, he’s not that bad.” He shook his head a little bit, a fond little smile on his face. “He’s my dad and I know he’ll love me no matter what, and I know it’s hard for him to understand, but he’s trying, you know?” Lance looked back at Keith, “And if you’re worried, he won’t say anything. In fact I can almost guarantee he won’t speak to you at all, so there won’t even be a problem.”

“Lance,” Keith said again, “That’s not exactly better.”

“Whelp,” Lance shrugged helplessly, looking down at his hands, his shoulders slumped pretty pathetically and his face pulled into a pinch.

Keith sighed, but gripped his hands tighter around the wheel. “You still haven’t told me anything about your mom, Rachel, or your twin.”

Lance’s face relaxed into a relieved smile. “Right, so Rachel.”

* * *

They’d switched again: Lance had been driving for the last hour and Keith had been pretending to sleep in the passenger seat. Keith would defend that he was really trying to fall asleep until the day he dies, but he knew that it was really just an excuse to stare at Lance. Because the way Lance’s long fingers tapped at the steering wheel along to the music was endearing. Because the way he sometimes sang out his road rage instead of the lyrics was absolutely adorable. Because the way his skin glittered and his hair glowed in the afternoon sun was absolutely breathtaking.

So, you can’t really blame Keith for pretending, especially when pretending allowed him such luxuries.

* * *

Keith must have actually fallen asleep, because suddenly Lance was nudging his shoulder and the car was stopped on the side of the road in a forest and Keith would would have thought that Lance was going to murder him if it wasn’t for the voices he could hear from not too far off.

“We’re here sleepyhead,” Lance said, his voice soft and his face softer.

Keith pushed himself up into a sitting position, still a little sleep-drunk, and looked around. What he had originally thought to be a random road through the thick evergreen forest of upstate New York, turned out to be a very long driveway up to an adorable one storey cabin. They were parked at the end of a long line of cars: evidently the last ones to arrive.

Keith watched the door of the cabin open and a group of people, all with the same dark brown hair and million watt smiles as Lance, poured out and onto the porch. A little kid screamed and started bounding down the lawn to the car, a second one not too far behind.

Keith felt a tight ball of anxiety form in his chest, his eyebrows furrowing as he watched.

Lance placed a hand on Keith’s knee, a bright smile on his face. “You’re gonna do great.”

“What if I say something and they hate me,” Keith rushed out, not even stopping to think about why he even cared so much.

“They’re going to love you,” Lance said, his thumb drawing little circles on the inside of Keith’s knee. “I just know it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >:)
> 
> Karlee:  
> [Personal Tumblr](https://sunscreams.tumblr.com)  
> [Voltron Tumblr](https://klancend.tumblr.com)
> 
> Dee:  
> [Tumblr](https://vampingqueen.tumblr.com)  
> [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/deadkid_draws/)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who is Steven?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, y'all, Karlee here. Super excited to drop this update instead of studying for the two midterms I have next week or starting the two essays I have due next week also lmao. 
> 
> Honestly, tho, we are so excited to get started with the Lance Family Arc!! Honestly, y'all don't even know. 
> 
> Just a quick note: There is mention of a surprise/accidental pregnancy as well as talk of abortion. If thats something that you're not comfy with it starts with "She paused then and took a deep breath. [referring to Cora]" and ends with "Keith didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything." This is a pretty small part and the stuff around it is low-key kind of important, but just a heads up. 
> 
> There's not any blatant homophobia in this chapter, if you're worried about that, but there is a conversation about pretending to be bi for the attention. Starts with "There was a long silence. Then, finally, “Mijo, I just don’t understand you.”" and ends with "Keith decided he’d heard enough and made his way back downstairs, completely forgetting his dry throat."
> 
> Also! if anyone wants me to tag things better, or warn against things better, please, please, let me know and I will do that for you :))
> 
> As, always, please send love and appreciation to our lovely [beta](https://galaxy-gayrrison.tumblr.com)!

Lance squeezed Keith’s knee one last time before he ducked out of the car and caught the kids barrelling full speed at him. Keith sat for a few beats, just watching Lance hug the shit out of the children on his lap. A smile tugged on Keith’s cheeks and a gooey ball of warmth oozed from his chest.

Lance’s smile was so soft; love practically radiating from his eyes as he balanced the twins in his arms. Keith could see the kids babbling excitedly, Lance’s facial expressions changing dramatically as their stories unfolded.

Keith leaned over to the drivers side to pop open the trunk before he slipped out of the passenger seat. Just as Keith closed the passenger side door, Lance shrieked, the kids tackling him down onto the ground. “Keith,” he called, “Keith, help me! I’m being eaten by munchkins!”

Keith felt his smile grow as he walked toward the trunk. “No! Keith, don’t betray me!” Lance cried as the kids giggled and wiggled on top of him. Keith hefted his own bag out of the trunk, situating it on his shoulder before he grabbed Lance’s bag (which weighed about a million tonnes) and shouldered that one as well.

“Keith!” Lance cried out in mock-pain one last time. Keith just slammed the trunk shut and Lance flopped lifelessly under the kids.

“You’ve killed me,” Lance groaned with his last breath.

“Tio, you’re not dead,” the boy, probably Nico, giggled.

“C’mon, Tio,” the little girl, probably Dani, patted Lance’s face, a tiny snicker in her voice.

“You’re right, I’m not!” Lance cried as he was revived, and began tickling the twins in his lap. The kids shrieked, scrambling out of Lance’s lap and dashed back to the porch where the adults watched on with fondness and amusement.

Keith offered Lance a hand and helped him up. Lance wiped the grass off his clothes, his fond smile still on his face as he looked at Keith. Keith’s chest stuttering under the warmth of that gaze.

“The twins?” Keith asked, not really trusting himself to say anything more.

Lance took his bag from Keith, propping it up on his own shoulder. “Yeah,” Lance glanced back at the house where the twins were running around the front lawn, his face melting again. Keith felt the warm gooey ball that had grown in his chest harden and push up into his throat; nervousness pressing down on him.

Lance must have seen something on Keith’s face because Lance reached for Keith’s hand and twined their fingers together. “Calm down, Mullet,” he said, his smile quirking up on one side, his thumb smoothing over Keith’s knuckles. “You’re going to be fine.”

* * *

 “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Steven,” a woman with greying dark brown hair, and kind brown eyes said, her smile so wide, Keith almost missed that she called him the wrong name.

“Steven?” Keith asked, feeling extremely confused.

“Mom, this is my boyfriend whose name is Keith,” Lance said, an equally confused look on his face. 

“You told me his name was Steven,” her smile wilted a little bit as she glanced between the boys.

“He does kind of look like a Steven Yeun,” another voice piped up coming from the teenager, probably Rachel, leaning against one of the pillars of the porch.

“I feel like I look like a Keith,” Keith said back, unable to stop himself. A woman with a bob-cut and glasses barked out a laugh. Keith would bet that was Veronica. “Lance, why did you tell your family my name was Steven?” Keith hissed.

“I didn’t,” Lance whisper yelled.

“Apparently you did,” Keith whisper yelled back.

“Seems kinda weird you don’t know the name of your own boyfriend,” a huge, built man with his arm around a short, pregnant woman, quipped—probably Marco considering the apparent wife.

“Yeah,” a man said, a shit eating grin horrifyingly similar to Lance’s filling his face. That was probably Luis considering he looked exactly like Lance if Lance worked out regularly and ate anything other than ramen. “Are you sure you didn’t just hire him off Craigslist or something?”

“What?” Lance bristled, “No! It—it was a joke!”

“Lance, don’t joke about that,” the kind woman, who was probably Lance’s mom, reprimanded.

“I told you he sounded like Steven Yeun, not that his name was Steven Yeun!” Lance exclaimed and Keith wanted to _die_.

“Lance, oh my god,” Keith sighed. Because of course Lance told his family he was dating a guy who sounded like Steven Yeun and it somehow got lost in translation.

“He kinda looks like him now that you say that,” Probably Rachel said.

“That’s gotta be some type of racist, right?” Probably Luis shot back.

“Guys,” Lance sighed.

“My name is Keith!” Keith exclaimed, completely over the argument. However, when everyone fell silent, their wide eyes trained on him and their mouths open, his heart sank because he knew he’d already fucked up.

Then, Probably Veronica’s face cracked, a smile forming as she said, “Oh yeah, he’ll fit in nicely here,” and then the rest of the family was smiling and laughing and pulling Keith into the cabin, a train of hugs pushing him along. Keith’s hand, which he hadn’t even realized was still gripping Lance’s, was pulled out of his grasp.

Keith was extremely overwhelmed. Smiling faces surrounded him and voices clambered over each other as Keith was pushed through the entryway. Somewhere in the chaos, Keith’s bag had been lifted off his shoulder, and his shoes had been kicked off his feet, and he had been deposited on a very plush couch.

“Guys, guys,” Lance voice called as he pushed his way through the crowd of his family. “Give Keith a break, god, we just spent like five hours in a car. The last thing he needs is to be smothered.”

“So thoughtful, mijo,” Lance’s mom pinched his cheek lightly.

“Ma,” Lance wined, a smile pulling at his lips.

“Okay,” Lance’s mom patted his cheek twice before she began shooing all of Lance’s siblings and niblings out of the room. “I’ll let you two get situated. Luis’s girlfriend is coming, so you boys can share the guest room in the basement.”

“Mamá!” a voice called from somewhere deeper in the house. Lance’s mom sighed, an incredulous smile on her face as she rolled her eyes.

“These kids,” she admonished lightly. “You boys set yourselves up in the guest room. Dinner will be ready in about an hour.” She shot Keith one last unbelievably warm smile before she was off, heading into the kitchen, already shouting in Spanish.

Lance plopped down next to Keith, his arm settling behind Keith’s shoulders.

“You okay, Mullet?” Lance asked, raising a brow. “You looked like a deer in the headlights back there.”

“I’m just overwhelmed,” Keith said, and then let out a small chuckle. “You have a lot of family.”

“I did warn you,” Lance said with a laugh as he lightly jostled Keith. The thing was, Lance did warn Keith. And in the car, Keith had thought he’d been prepared, but in the heat of the moment, with all of their smiling faces staring back at him and their long arms wrapping him up and welcoming him in, Keith’s resolve crumbled. Something soft and warm was slotted into place and Keith didn’t know how to handle that.

“They’re nice though,” Keith said, and Lance hummed, idly playing with the ends of Keith’s hair.

“They are, aren’t they?” They sat there like that for a few more beats; long enough to hear a clatter and a string of screeching Spanish to come from the kitchen that had both boys wincing.

“We should probably head downstairs,” Lance said, “Get our stuff away before someone goes snooping.”

Keith huffed a laugh, “What are they hoping to find?”

“Lube probably,” Lance deadpanned, and Keith simultaneously blanched and blushed as hard as he could.

“Oh,” was all Keith managed, opting instead to launch himself off the couch and to hike his pack onto his shoulder.

Lance laughed, grabbed his bag and walked down a hallway. “C’mon Mullet-Head.”

And there was nothing else for Keith to do, but follow.

* * *

“So,” Keith started, frozen in the doorway as he stared at the one and only bed in the room. The room he was to share with Lance. “One bed.”

Lance paused for a moment from where he was digging through the closet in the back of the room. He turned around holding a pile of folded bed clothes. He glanced at the bed, then at Keith. “Um,” he cleared his throat, “Yeah.” He ducked his head, his ears burning a cute red. “I can sleep on the floor if you’re uncomfortable.”

Keith’s heart pounded. “No, you don’t have to do that. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“No, you’re a guest in this house and my mamá would kill me if I let you sleep on the floor,” Lance insisted.

“Okay, well, this is your house and I would feel bad if I made you sleep on the floor.”

“Well, you’re my friend and I would feel bad if I made _you_ sleep on the floor.”

Keith groaned and rolled his eyes. “Just—” he cut himself off with another annoyed sound, “We’ll both just sleep on the bed. It doesn’t make me uncomfortable.”

Exactly the opposite actually, and Keith was terrified about what his subconscious would do while sleeping in the same bed as Lance. Keith tried not to blush at the thought.

“Well, I’m not uncomfortable either,” Lance said.

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

The boys stood across from each other for a few beats, both blushing and pretending they're not.

“Help me put this fucking fitted sheet on,” Lance hissed, a little ridiculously. Keith snorted and then Lance snorted and soon they were both laughing across the room with each other.

“Alright,” Keith said as he ditched his bag on the floor by the door and crossed over to the opposite side of the bed. Emphasis on bed, singular.

Lance tossed Keith one side of the fitted sheet and together they managed to get the sheet on.

“So,” Keith started as he tried to shove a pillow into a pillowcase. “Are you gonna tell me why your family thought my name was Steven?”

Lance groaned dramatically as he shook his pillow into its case. “Oh my god.”

“What?” Keith chuckled, “I wanna know how that conversation went.”

“Okay, well, I was telling my mom about you, and she said, ‘Which one is he?’ and I said, ‘The one who kinda looks and sounds like Glenn from the Walking Dead’ and then she said, ‘Oh, what’s his name again?’ and I said, ‘Steven Yeun’ and here we are,” Lance said all in one big rush.

“You’re a disaster,” Keith deadpanned, somehow unable to banish the smile from his face.

“Yeah, well, you’re pretending to date this disaster, so who’s the real winner here?” Lance snarked and Keith couldn’t help thinking _‘me’._ Because while even just pretending to date Lance, he was having the time of his life.

Instead of voicing this though, Keith just rolled his eyes and said, “Whatever, loser,” and threw his pillow at Lance’s head.

* * *

The second Keith and Lance made it up the stairs, Keith felt like he was in a war zone. Albeit a heavenly smelling war zone. There were people flitting all over the kitchen and dining room, setting the table and filling glasses with water and ice, children running underfoot, pretending to help, but often getting in the way. Mrs. McClain was shouting orders much like a drill sergeant, her oven mitts flapping as she gestured with them. Dishes filled with delicious looking food flew over heads, and under waving arms, and finally onto the table in safety.

Keith’s heart rate picked up 70 notches just by watching.

Mrs. McClain spotted Lance and Keith, a smile lighting up her face, “Keith, honey, come sit!” She waved her oven mit at him as she pushed her way through her crowd of fully grown children. “Dinner is almost ready.”

“Mamá, what about me? Can I sit too?” Lance asked, pouting.

“No, mijo, you need to help,” she placed her hands on her hips and sent Lance a firm look. “My son is no slacker.”

Lance sighed, “Yes, mamá.”

“Go help Dani with the tamales,” she shoo-ed Lance off into the fray.

“Now, come _mijo_ ,” she pulled Keith to the table, “you can sit here.” She shoved him into a wooden chair. Keith was surprised this five foot two woman had the sheer strength to do that.

It wasn’t as if Keith was used to busy houses, but he thought he’d be a little more prepared than he’d turned out to be. Growing up, and even now, Keith spent most of the big, capital-H Holidays with Shiro’s family. His aunts, uncles, and cousins, however, were never this rowdy. Instead of the virtual warfare happening in the kitchen, Shiro’s family home was filled with polite conversation and deep red wines.

But it sure was a whole lot different here:

“Rachel, did you preheat the oven?” Veronica called from where her head was in the oven.

“Maybe?” Rachel called back with an unaffected shrug. Veronica groaned and started pressing a button on the face like mad.

“Lemme see what you have,” Marco said as Nico streaked through the kitchen, a mad smile on his tiny face.

“A knife!” Nico hollered, cackling as he ran.

“No!” Marco dashed after his son, arms outstretched.

“Mamá, we need more rice,” Lance called, a spoon and a corn stalk in his hands.

“Don’t pack them so full, mijo,” Mrs. McClain chastised.

“Shit,” Rachel cursed, scrambling to grab her salad spoon as it flew out of her bowl.

“Language, Rache,” Marco said, carrying a pouting Nico on his hip, a butter knife in his other hand.

“You’ll make them burst if they’re too full, Lance,” Mrs. McClain shook her head as she unwrapped some of the tamales.

“Mamá,” Lance whined.

“Shut up, Marco,” Rachel said, picking up her spoon.

“Tio Lance, do you smell something burning?” Dani tugged on Lance’s sleeve as he argued with his mother about how much rice to put in tamales.

“Burning?” Mrs. McClain stopped and turned back to the kitchen.

“Did you even put the wax paper in!?” Veronica cried as she opened up the oven door, a waft of black smoke following.

“Veronica, did you turn up the oven?!” Mrs. McClain pulled out the smoking pan.

“You’re supposed to put wax paper down?” Rachel asked, pausing where she was tossing the salad.

Where there was peace in Keith’s quiet apartment, there was a whole disaster in Lance’s house. People stampeding around the whole room. Rachel and Veronica arguing about wax paper. Mrs. McClain trying her best to salvage the burnt wreckage that was once a part of dinner. Marco lecturing Nico at the little breakfast nook. Lance ignoring his mother’s rice advice. Luis suspiciously gone. Dani singing Moana somewhere in the background.

A whole disaster, indeed.

So, Keith just sat there, not knowing what to do.

“First time’s always a bit overwhelming,” someone said as they lowered themselves next to Keith, startling him.

“Huh?” Keith said.

“You okay?” Cora—Marco’s wife, his mind supplied—asked. There was a small smile playing over her lips.

“Yeah,” Keith said, “I just feel bad that there’s nothing I can do.”

“That’s exactly what I felt the first time I spent Christmas here,” she giggled, caging her lips with long fingers. “I grew up as an only child, so life wasn’t much before, but now? Wow. I call it the McClain Madness.”

Keith nodded. “How’d you...do it?” Keith’s voice seemed small and insignificant compared to the cacophony around them.

She laughed, “Oh dear, funny that you asked!”

Keith let out a nervous chuckle, picking at his fingernails.

“Honestly? I was terrified. I stuck to Marco like glue,” she smiled and passed a hand over her swollen belly, obviously reminiscing. Keith felt his nerves melt. “It was around the time I found out I was pregnant, the first time. So it was a bit weird. I kept telling myself that I wouldn’t be accepted, that this wasn’t for me, that I wouldn’t be included.” She paused then and took a deep breath. “My parents weren’t so hot on the whole pregnant in university thing, and told me either I aborted or they stopped paying.”

Keith didn’t know what to say, so he didn't say anything.

Cora continued, with a sigh, “So, I played a gamble and moved out with Marco.”

She wiped her fingers with a napkin, her ring glinting in the light. Her eyes landed on Marco and a smile danced across her face as she watched her husband lecture their child.

“It was my first Christmas away, and I was very pregnant with the twins, but…they made me feel like I wasn’t ruining my life by keeping them.” Cora sighed, taking a sip of water. “Accept them for what they are because as long as you love and respect them, they’ll love and respect you.”

She smiled down at the table, then at Keith. “They want you here. They are seriously the nicest people you’ll ever meet in your entire life.”

“I’ll take your word,” Keith said, feeling a warm ball unfurl in his chest as he watched the chaos. Except as disorganized as the scene was, everyone was smiling, and laughing, and poking fun at each other. It wasn’t so much a war zone as it was a group of people who loved each other too much to not work together.

Keith was not getting misty-eyed.

“Word of advice though,” Cora said, breaking Keith out of his stupor, “Hector is a bit of a tough cookie to crack, but he’s a nice guy.”

“Hector?” Keith felt his eyebrows furrow, not recognizing the name.

“The family patriarch,” Cora chuckled, waving flippantly. “Lance’s father.”

“Right,” Keith said, a frown sliding over his features. “Lance’s father.”

“Don’t let him scare you,” Cora said, patting his shoulder. “He is not that bad.”

“I have yet to meet him,” Keith muttered.

Mrs. McClain brought a few dishes over to the table, arranging them in a manner very near Tetris levels of intricate. “Dinner is ready,” she announced, before stealing a look at the dainty gold watch around her wrist. “My goodness, Hector is running late.”

Marco who finally plopped a struggling Nico into a booster seat beside his mother, piped up, “Yeah, is Papá still at work?”

“He’s probably finishing up some late business,” Mrs. McClain said with a sigh. “He’ll come.”

Keith’s eyebrows furrowed even further at the frown that took Mrs. McClain’s lips. An odd sense of dread settled in Keith’s stomach.

Eventually everyone found a seat, Lance on the other side of him, grinning from ear-to-ear. Keith cracked a smile back and knocked their thighs together under the table. Lance knocked him back.

“Okay, Marco, lead grace please,” Mrs. McClain said.

A jolt of panic went though Keith. He wasn’t religious. He hadn’t had to say grace before a meal in almost ten years. He didn’t know how to even _do_ grace. He sent a panicked look to Lance, who rolled his eyes and took his hand.

“Just bow your head and close your eyes,” Lance nodded at his other side where Cora was waiting for his other hand. “Mamá’s Catholic, and insists.”

Keith nodded minutely, following Lance’s directions. Marco lead the prayer, but Keith missed most of it, trying not to be too distracted by the warm hand in his, and the warm thigh pressed up against his, and the shoulder that brushed his.

Keith was snapped out of his stupor when the whole family chorused, “Amen!”

“A...men,” Keith said a moment later, a little more than a little awkwardly.

Lance let out a little snort and bumped his shoulder. Dishes of food Keith had never seen, nor tried before were passed around the table, all smelling and looking more delicious than anything Keith could think of. He scooped rice, beans, and tortillas filled with vegetables and meats onto his plates. Everything that was passed around, Keith took at least one of each dish.

“Keith, why don’t you try the empanadas?” Mrs. McClain handed Keith a platter, her offer sounding a lot more like an order.

Keith glanced at Lance who nodded at him enthusiastically. So, Keith grabbed the tongs and placed one on his plate, then another when Mrs. McClain sent him a stern look.

Keith used the side of his fork to cut a piece off. He brought the piece up to his mouth and popped it in.

Then almost groaned aloud at how the flavours popped against his taste buds.

Holy Shit.

Lance grinned at him, looking mighty proud. Keith hastily took another bite, and hummed in delight.

“This… this is really good, Mrs. McClain,” Keith said earnestly after he swallowed his food, somehow able to remember his table manners.

The woman blushed, and waved a hand in the air as she grinned, reminding him too much of Lance. “Please,” she scoffed, “Mrs. McClain is my mother-in-law. Call me Elena,” a mischievous smirk lit up her face, and Keith was quickly learning who Lance learned his facial expressions from. “Or maybe you could even call me _Mamá_ ,” she winked.

Keith exploded into a blush. “Uh.”

“Mamá!” Lance screeched.

Luis guffawed, then said in a deep voice. “Welcome to the family, son!”

“Who should I be welcoming?” asked an unfamiliar voice, and it was almost like the entire family froze. Ten sets of eyes turned, and things were extremely awkward until Dani and Nico broke forward, shouting.

“ _Abuelo_!” they exclaimed, running towards him, flying into his long legs.

“ _Hola,_ _mis nietos_ ,” he said with a chuckle as he gathered them in a smothering hug.

It took time for Keith to process this. It shook Keith to realize the older man was a spitting image of Lance, except lined and hardened with age. He had a dark brown beard and his hair was longer too, tucked into a ponytail instead of cut short around ears that stuck out a little too far. His eyes were blue and hidden behind the trim frames he wore.

He carried both twins back to the table and deposited them back into their seats. He glanced at the family with raised eyebrows, the air thick with tension. “Sorry I’m late, Ellie,” he dropped a kiss onto the top of Elena’s head, then lowered himself into his own chair.

His eyes flitted around the table, eventually landing on Lance. “Leandro, you’re home.”

“Sí, Papá,” Lance shot him a subdued smile.

The man, presumably Hector, nodded, a tense smile on his lips as his eyes flitted from Lance, to Elena, then back again. “Good to see you again, son.”

Lance just nodded, his lips in a firm line as he looked back down to his dinner. Keith felt his eyebrows furrow, and he placed a hand on Lance’s knee under the table, hoping to offer some sort of support. Lance let out a breath, some of the tension slipping out of his shoulders. He sent Keith a thankful smile.

“You must be Lance’s friend,” Hector said, snapping Keith back into the drama happening around the table.

“Lance’s boyfriend, Papá,” Rachel said, her features tight, increasing the tension by ten-fold.

“That’s Keith!” piped up Dani, her little voice cutting through some of the tension.

“Keith,” Hector repeated with a nod. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Keith cleared his throat and sent him a wobbly polite smile. “Sir,” he added a second later.

Elena patted Hector’s hand a few times, “Keith is a nice boy, Hector.” Hector sighed, letting some of the tension in his shoulders go, a larger smile working over his features.

“Of course he is, Ellie,” he sighed. “Can you pass me the tamales? It looks like Lance overfilled them again.”

“Hey,” Lance called, and just like that, dinner was in full swing again. The siblings laughing and jibing at each other.

But for some reason, Keith just couldn’t let his heart get into it.

* * *

The room was the type of dark only basement rooms could be: pitch black and only illuminated by thin ribbons of pale moonlight peeking through the cracks of the blinds of the small window above the headboard. The pale moonlight painted luminescent stripes on navy blue sheets. Keith could hear muted footsteps above him—presumably the rest of the family getting ready for bed—but other than that, a restless silence covered the evening.

The serenity was broken as Lance flicked on the lights. “Okay, Mullet, get outta those skinny jeans and into some PJ’s. If we’re not at maximum coze in less that 15 minutes, I’m gonna lose it.”

“You’ve already lost it,” Keith quipped, pulling his hoodie over his head and leaning down to his bag to fish out a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt he intended to sleep in.

“Honestly, that is so rude and I’m extremely offended,” Lance said from the other side of the room, also digging through his bag.

Keith rolls his eyes and turns away to get to changing, assuming that locker room rules applied.

“Woah!” Lance exclaimed before Keith could even get his shirt on. “You have a tattoo?!”

Keith jolted and turned around, “Um, yeah.” His t-shirt dangled loosely from his fingertips, and as soon as Keith’s eyes landed on Lance, he realized what a mistake he had made agreeing to sleep in the same bed as Lance.

Because there was Lance in all his tall, handsome, smooth-skinned glory, shark-printed pyjama pants riding low on his hips, and his bare chest proudly on display. In real life. Less than five feet away from Keith. And about to get into the same bed as him.

Keith’s mouth dried up, and his face warmed.

Lance was looking right back though. His eyes flung open and bulging out of their sockets as they raked up and down Keith’s body. Lance repeated the movement a few times, gawking at Keith for an entire minute. His mouth opened and closed a few times, almost like he was unsure of what to say, but ended up looking like a goldfish. Lance’s jaw hit the ground, leaving his mouth wide enough to catch a billion of flies and still have room for some more.

“Tattoo?” Lance finally went with.

Keith let out a laugh, “Yeah,” he pressed a hand over it, almost self-consciously. Remembering the black and white wolf he had tattooed on his shoulder blade. “Sometimes I forget I have this thing.”

“How?” Lance took a step forward, and Keith gulped. “I mean, it’s gorgeous!”

“Thanks,” Keith had to look away, afraid that if he looked for another second, he might pop a boner. “I um,” Keith cleared his throat, “I got it when I was just 18. Another one of those emo Keith things.”

Lance let out a breathy laugh. “Can I see it again?”

Keith swallowed thickly, “Um, sure.” Then he turned around and he could hear Lance take another step forward. Keith didn’t know whether he was imagining or not, but he felt a warmth radiating behind him as feather-light fingers danced along the lines.

“I’ve always wanted to get a tattoo,” Lance’s voice was soft, and Keith didn’t know how to handle that. “Never know what to get though.”

Keith squeezed his eyes closed, willing his blush to go away. “You don’t have to decide right away.”

Lance hummed, “I love this.”

And that was about all that Keith could take, so he stepped away from Lance, inhaling sharply and shoving his t-shirt over his head. He scooped down to grab his toothbrush and toothpaste from his bag before darting out of the room to brush his teeth.

Keith brushed his teeth, perhaps a bit too harshly, trying his best to get the soft cadence of Lance’s voice out of his head and the electric feeling of Lance’s fingers gliding over the skin of Keith’s back and the way goosebumps broke over his arm.  

Keith spit into the sink, rinsed out his mouth, and splashed some water onto his face. He needed to get ahold of himself. He was going to be staying here for another three days, and he seriously couldn’t be popping a boner every time Lance and him tucked into bed.

Except, that right there, sent another jolt through Keith. The sheer domesticity of the action sending Keith reeling. The way Lance looked just then, with his soft smile, and his soft hair, and his soft skin, Keith could almost believe that they were really dating, and that this whole entire trip wasn’t a sham.

With a final sigh, Keith drank some water from the tap and headed back to the room.

“Well,” Keith said, “looks like I’m sleeping on the floor.”

“What?” Lance said, turning from where he was fluffing a pillow on the far side of the bed. Lance shook his head in disapproval. “Nope, no, you’re not. You’re taking the bed. I’m not going to allow you to give yourself, like, permanent spinal trauma.”

“I’m not going to get permanent spinal trauma from sleeping on the floor,” Keith rolled his eyes.

“We made a deal, Mullet,” Lance narrowed his eyes, “We both sleep in this bed. Like men.”

“Ugh, but then I have to wear socks all night for it to not be gay,” Keith teased.

Lance was not expecting that, and after a few shocked beats, Lance was falling back onto the mattress, cackling. “We just have to say ‘no homo’ and it’ll be fine, bro.”

“Are you sure that’s all, bro?” Keith grinned as he continued the joke.

“Yeah, bro,” Lance patted the bed beside him, “It’s all cool, bro, no homo.”

Keith snorted, “No homo.”

“Mhm,” Lance hummed, patting the side of the bed again. “Come here, snookums.”

“Whatever you say, Leandro,” Keith tried to roll the ‘r’ in an exaggerated accent.

“If that was an impression of my dad, then boy howdy,” Lance said, cackling, “you’re doing it all wrong.”

Lance schooled his features into a neutral, deadpan expression, and then flatly said, “Leandro, how come you got a B- in this class?”

Keith snorted, and then Lance cracked a grin.

“That’s how you impersonate my dad.”

“Tell me more,” Keith said, grinning back.

Lance lowered his voice, frowning. “Leandro, wash the dishes—Don’t give me that look. What do you mean it was your turn yesterday? I’m telling you to do it _now._ ”

Keith snickered.

Lance continued on. “Leandro, why didn’t you ask permission first? Go home right now.”

“Leandro, pick that up! I’m not your maid.”

“Leandro, what—what is this? Is this really your grade? My god, I shouldn’t have bought you that game.”

“Leandro, stop doing that.”

“Leandro, Leandro, Leandro,” Lance repeated, trying to keep his face as even as possible.

Keith was muffling his laughter with a pillow. “Okay, that’s enough!”

“You ask, I deliver,” Lance said, bowing.

“Yeah, you did,” Keith said, then he let out a huge yawn. “I’m tired.”

Something shifted in Lance’s eyes, something softer. “Rest. We have a whole day tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Keith said, putting his head onto the pillow. He closed his eyes, slowly slipping into unconsciousness.

The last thing he heard was a “Goodnight, Keith.”

* * *

Keith didn’t know why he woke up, but when he did, all he knew was that it was late and that the spot next to him, were Lance should have been, was empty. Keith felt his eyebrows furrow, but calmed down when he passed a hand over the sheets and felt that they were still warm. He must have just gotten up to go to the bathroom.

Keith let his head fall back to his pillow, but couldn’t fall asleep. On every inhale, Keith was reminded of his ridiculous dry throat. So, with a sigh, Keith rolled out of bed and padded his way up the stairs, intending to grab a drink in the kitchen.

However, when Keith reached the top of the stairs, he could hear voices coming from the kitchen. Not wanting to eavesdrop, Keith turned to leave, resigning himself to drinking directly from the tap in the bathroom like a heathen, but paused when he heard his own name.

“His name’s Keith, Papá,” that was Lance’s voice, and he sounded extremely tired.

“Yes,” that was Hector. “He, um, he seems nice.”

Lance sighed, “He’s very nice, Papá, that’s why I’m dating him.”

There was a long silence. Then, finally, “Mijo, I just don’t understand you.”

A few silent beats, “What do you mean?” Lance finally settled on.

“I just—” Hector started, then cut himself off. “Why can’t you be normal like Luis? Your mamá and I love you just fine, Leandro. You don’t need to try and get our attention like this.”

There was another long silence that made Keith’s blood run cold.

“Papá,” Lance’s voice was heart wrenching and made Keith want to burn down the whole world. “Papá, I’m not acting out for attention. I’m an adult now. I’m not some little kid pretending to be sick so you and Mamá will spend the day with me. I’m a grown ass man who’s in love with another man and that’s just how it is.” Lance’s voice broke, and Keith had to stop himself from whipping around the corner.

“Fuck,” Lance whispered vehemently, sniffling lightly.

“Leandro,” Lance’s dad started, his voice soft.

“No, it’s fine, just—” Lance’s voice was choked, and Keith’s heart shattered.

“I’m sorry, mijo,” Hector sighed.

“Fuck,” Lance said again, but this time it was muffled. Keith decided he’d heard enough and made his way back downstairs, completely forgetting his dry throat.

Keith laid back in bed, his mind running a million miles a second. Anger and confusion rolling over one another until his mind was a complete mess of unfinished thoughts and loose-canon emotions.

Keith pretended to be asleep when Lance finally slipped back into bed. And when a hand carded through his hair—so endlessly gentle and kind—Keith had to squeeze his eyes against the building emotion in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we have it folks. 
> 
> Karlee:  
> [Personal Tumblr](https://sunscreams.tumblr.com)  
> [Voltron Tumblr](https://klancend.tumblr.com) Dee: [Tumblr](https://vampingqueen.tumblr.com)  
> [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/deadkid_draws/)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's always sunny in Upstate New York part 1.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Dee and I have been super productive the last couple of weeks and are happy so say we'll be going back to weekly updates!!! 
> 
> (Which comes at a really good time bc this ends w a cliffhanger lmao)
> 
> Anyway, as always send some love to our wonderful [beta](https://galaxy-gayrrison.tumblr.com).

The next time Keith woke up, sunlight was streaming through the blinds that had been left open the night before. Blinking blearily through the morning light, Keith’s eyes landed on Lance. A smile wormed its way onto Keith’s face and a ball of something warm and gooey filled Keith’s chest. And as Keith remembered the conversation he overheard the night before, his fondness for Lance only grew. 

Because Lance was so brave, wasn’t he? The way he defended himself the night before made Keith so damn proud of him. To stand up and say the way you feel; to exclaim that it is the way that it is; to not leave any question about how true that fact alone is; that’s so brave.

And it was something Keith had never done while living in Texas; something he was always too afraid of doing.

And Lance had done it, speaking through tears to his  _ father _ .

Something Keith had never been given the chance to do.

Keith felt that made Lance braver than he ever could be.

And Lance was kinder than Keith ever could be too: the way he played with the kids the night before; the way he helped his mother with dinner with no question; the way he offered Keith the bed with no hesitation; the way he combed his fingers through Keith’s hair so gently that Keith wasn’t sure his heart could stand it.

And as Keith stared at Lance under the hazy, golden light of morning, that warm, gooey feeling spreading from his heart to all of his extremities, Keith realized something.

He had caught genuine, capital-F Feelings for Lance.

And with that realization, came panic.

Because the last time Keith had capital-F Feelings for someone, he’d been rejected. And Keith won’t say that it was horrible and traumatizing, because Shiro had been very kind and gentle about it, but it had still been horrible and traumatizing.

He’d been family-zoned by the guy he’d been crushing on for as long as he could remember. And Shiro had been so gracious and considerate, careful not to make Keith feel bad...But he’d also been horribly  _ patronizing _ . Keith will remember the way Shiro’s eyes filled with pity for the rest of his life. And while Keith can admit that he was mostly over Shiro by now, Shiro’s rejection had been heartbreaking.

And now Lance.

Handsome, silly, flirty Lance, who was in love with Allura, and had been for the last three or so years that they’ve known each other. His love for her was the whole reason they were even doing this whole fake dating thing.

And that—the sobering fact that this was all  _ fake _ —was what finally pushed Keith out of bed.

Lance didn’t want Keith. Lance didn’t want to date Keith. No, he wanted Allura. He always had, and he always would want her. Lance’s endgame was Allura. Not Keith.

So, as Keith trudged up the stairs, desperate for fresh air, or fresh scenery, or  _ something, _ he couldn’t quite get the image of Lance’s smiling face next to Allura’s out of his head.

What a beautiful couple they’d make.

* * *

Keith needed a cup of coffee. He needed to wake up. He needed to get his head on straight and stop worrying about things like capital-F Feelings.

So, with his mind made up, Keith padded into the kitchen. His eyes snagged on the clock on the stove. It wasn’t even 8am yet; God, Keith was up early. At least that explained why there were no McClains running around yet.

Keith made his way over to the coffee machine. It was a make and model Keith had never seen before, and the poor thing looked older than he was. But Keith was a professional barista. This ancient coffee machine had nothing,  _ nothing _ , on the monstrosities Keith dealt with at work. And with confidence like that, there’s no way you could lose right?

Right.

After some light snooping to find the coffee (already ground) and the mugs (abnormally huge), Keith faced the machine.

And just stared.

“Trying to make coffee?” A voice asked from behind Keith, causing him to jump at least three feet in the air. Keith spun around like he’d been caught doing something illegal, a hand pressed to his chest.

Mrs. McClain—Elena—stood in the doorway to the kitchen, her arms crossed loosely across her chest and a wonderfully light smile on her face. A smile that reminded Keith so much of Lance.

“Um,” Keith shot his eyes away, feeling a blush rise up his cheeks. “Yeah. Or at least, I was trying to.”

“Never used a machine that old, eh?” Her eyes twinkled with unspoken laughter.

Keith shook his head, feeling the tension unwittingly drain out of him. “I’m used to machines a little newer, yeah.” Keith let out a little, nervous chuckle.

Elena crossed the kitchen, her slippers making soft dragging noises on the linoleum. Her hands reached out and opened the top; a step Keith honestly should have known. She took out the old filter, and replaced it with a new one, scooping coffee in after. She poured in new water and then closed the top. She fiddled with the pot then pressed the button—the only button, mind you—on the front of the machine, then turned to Keith with a smile.

“And now we wait,” she patted Keith on the shoulder.

“And now we wait,” Keith mumbled after her.

“So, Keith, what do you like for breakfast?” Elena made her way to the fridge. “We have eggs and sausage in here. Ooh, and hashbrowns.” Elena pops her head out of the fridge. “What do you think?”

“Mrs—Elena,” Keith hastily corrected, “Whatever you cook is sure to be amazing if last night was any indicator.”

“Oh, you catch on quick,” she wagged a finger in Keith’s direction, her mirthful eyes, glittering.

Keith let out a little chuckle. “I’m being honest,” Keith insisted. “Ma’am, I grew up in Texas, and let me tell you, I’ve never had food as flavourful as that.”

Elena let out a guffaw. “Of course you haven’t, honey!” This mischievous look came over her face and she leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, “White people don’t use spices.”

Keith couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped him if he tried.

“What’s so funny?” Lance asked, rounding the corner into the kitchen. Keith was immediately distracted by the way Lance’s broad shoulders pulled attractively on his sleep shirt, and the way the muscles in Lance’s arms bunched and released as he reached for a mug in the cupboard above his mother’s head. Keith must have been extra tired, or something, that morning, because the way Lance’s ass filled out his sleep pants had Keith almost drooling. Keith swallowed thickly and tried not to make it obvious he was checking Lance out.

God, he looked good in the morning.

“Oh, nothing, mijo,” Elena patted her son’s cheek, and Keith had to look away, a blush colouring his cheeks.

“Mamá,” he whined, and maybe it was the fact that Keith hadn’t had any coffee yet, because Lance’s voice sounded gruffer and sexier than usual.

Lance sent Keith an exasperated look—and even through the lustful fog that had descended upon Keith’s brain—something in that expression was more than a little off. Keith cocked an eyebrow: was something wrong?

Lance raised an eyebrow back, but before Keith could say anything, Lance said, “So, Keith, how was your sleep?”

Keith nodded, still a little concerned. “It was good.”

Lance grinned, his smile not as lopsided as Keith was used to, as he said, “Lance didn’t steal all the blankets on you?”

And that was when Keith’s world imploded a little.

Because that was not Lance. That was Luis. And Keith had just been thirsting in a major way over him.

Keith didn’t know why he was freaking out so much: it wasn’t like Keith and Lance were actually dating. But, for some reason, just the thought of checking out, not just another guy, but Lance’s twin brother, made Keith feel grimy and dishonest.

“Um,” Keith cleared his throat and looked away, “No, he was fine.”

“You’re probably used to it by now, hey?” Luis was still grinning that wrong-shaped-Lance grin, only making Keith feel worse, because now that he knew this was Luis, the differences between the twins were painfully obvious.

Luis’ hair was longer, and his ears didn’t stick out as far. Luis had broader shoulders and maybe an inch on Lance. He was more muscular and his smile never reached his eyes the same way as Lance’s did.

Keith was so hung up on clocking the differences—and beating himself up for not noticing them earlier—that not only did he forget to answer Luis, but he ended up jumping at least a foot in the air when the coffee machine beeped, signalling a fresh pot.

Luis laughed and even that sounded like a cheap imitation to Keith’s ears.

* * *

Breakfast was...eventful. At least by Keith Standards. By Lance Standards, it was probably painfully uneventful. Complete with yelling, Spanish curses, and the general madness Keith was beginning to associate with McClain mealtimes. So, of course, being the introvert he was, Keith felt overly exhausted once breakfast ended. He slumped into one of the well-loved couches arranged haphazardly in the McClain living room, stomach filled with hashbrowns and coffee, his hair piled on the top of his head in a messy ponytail.

Keith had just slipped his eyes shut, and was about to fall into a  tryptophan -induced food-coma, when something tugged on his elbow. Keith jerked awake almost immediately, jerking his head to the side just in time to see two pairs of blue eyes blinking owlishly at him.

“I told you he wasn’t dead,” Dani said.

“He could be a zombie!” Nico said, a bit exasperated. “Are you a zombie, Señor Keith?”

“Duh!” Lance called, crossing into the living room. The long sleeves of his sleep shirt were pushed up from where he had been elbow deep in dishwater only a few moments prior. Keith couldn’t help but admire his exposed forearms: there was just something innately attractive about rolled up sleeves against toned skin.

Lance met Keith’s eye, an adorable glint in his eyes as he approached. “Keith’s going to eat your brains if you don’t finish your cereal, kiddos.”

Keith raised an eyebrow at Lance in question. Lance mouthed, “Play along.”

Helpless to do otherwise, Keith did.

“Brains,” Keith groaned, turning his eyes to the kids. Keith stretched out his arms and made his hands into pseudo-claws.

The kids shrieked, their giggles overlapping as they scrambled away from Keith and behind Lance’s legs.

“Tío!” Dani squealed, snatching up fistfuls of Lance’s sleep pants.

“Eat your breakfast or Zombie Keith will get you,” Lance laughed, twisting around at his waist to watch them. Nico dashed off, a giggling scream following hims as he went.

“Nico!” Dani called after him, betrayal clear in her small voice. Dani’s head swivelled around to look up at Lance, her recovery quick as she asked, “Will you play with us after breakfast?”

Lance ruffled her hair and she batted him away, her smile growing. “Of course we’ll play with you. But only after all of your apple slices are gone, Missy.”

Dani rolled her eyes—clearly a McClain—and said, “Whatever, Tío,” before she made her way after her brother back into the kitchen.

Keith didn’t know what his face was doing then—too caught up in the warm feeling growing in his chest and spreading throughout his body, making his fingers and toes tingle—but he was sure it was something achingly soft, and ridiculously dopey, and directed right at Lance.

Keith wasn’t an optimist, but it looked like Lance was sending one right back.

* * *

“So,” Lance started as he threw himself down on the couch next to Keith, “what do you wanna do today?”

Keith hummed, a little distracted by Lance’s smiling mouth. “I, um,” Keith cleared his throat and glanced away. “I’m basically cool with anything. I’ve never been this far upstate.”

Lance gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his heart as if horribly offended by the idea. “So you mean, you haven’t seen the town?”

“Lance, I’ve been to the town,” Keith deadpanned, unable to hide the smile that lit up his face, affectionately amused by Lance.

“Okay, well then,” Lance dropped his dramatic facade. “I guess we’re going into town today.”

“Okay,” Keith said, because he would have agreed to anything Lance said. “What about Nico and Dani?”

“We’ll play with them for a little bit, too, I guess,” Lance groaned, but the smile on his face gave him away.

Keith wanted to kiss him so badly in that instance.

And Keith probably would have leaned in and sealed their lips if they hadn’t been interrupted:

“Tío Lance, breakfast is over and mom said we can play now!” Nico yelled as he ran into the living room at full speed and threw himself directly into Lance’s lap.

Lance let out an oof, wincing as Nico wiggled in his lap, shoving bony elbows and knees into every soft spot available. “Nico, stop moving, you’re hurting me, buddy,” Lance mumbled, finally getting ahold of the wiggling boy and righting him. “Is your sister done eating?”

“Yes!” Dani exclaimed, her dramatic entrance perfectly executed. “Let’s go Tío Lance and Señor Keith!”

“Apple slices?” Lance raised an eyebrow.

Dani rolled her eyes. “Yes, all gone.”

“Good, let’s go!” Lance hoisted Nico onto his shoulders and began his crusade into the backyard. Not knowing what to do, Keith got up and followed at a much more sedate pace. Dani grabbed Keith’s hand and tugged on it.

“Señor Keith, c’mon!” Dani cheered and pulled Keith along, pulling Keith’s small smile into something larger and a little more uncontained.

“Alright, Miss Dani, I’m coming,” Keith laughed as he was tugged along.

They had just barely crossed over the threshold into the backyard—Nico and Lance already playing some kind of tag—when they were intercepted by Veronica.

“Dani, can I steal Señor Keith from you?” Veronica asked and Keith felt his heart squeeze in panic.

Dani looked at Keith then back at Veronica. “Will you give Keith back after?”

“Yeah, I’ll give Keith back,” Veronica says, her voice placating.

Keith silently begged Dani to stay, but she was just a kid—barely four years old—and so she just shrugged and said, “okay, Tía. Bye Señor Keith,” and hopped down the steps of the back porch and into the game of tag with Lance and Nico.

“Am I in some sort of trouble?” Keith started at soon as Dani was out of earshot.

Veronica laughed. “I like you, Keith.” She shook her head, a smile on her face that somehow didn’t make Keith feel any better.

“I, um, I like you too, Veronica,” Keith felt like the most awkward man alive.

Veronica laughed. “Keith, you’re sweet.” She levelled her eyes on him, his smile still there as she continued, “You look at my brother like he pinned the sun in the sky and I’m so happy about that. Because Lance deserves that.”

Keith nodded, because he agreed.

Keith blushed, because he hadn’t realized he’d been that obvious.

“Listen,” Veronica took a small step toward Keith, her tone a little more serious. “He’s had a few not-so-great relationships and you obviously make each other very happy and that, of course, makes me happy. He’s given you his entire heart, and I’m sure you’ve done the same. But Keith,” she pauses again, her eyes hard and her face harder, “be careful with that gift because it’s the best damn one you’re ever gonna get.”

Keith thought about the way Lance spoke about his family on the way here. How he smiled when he talked about his mother, and his father, and his sisters, and his brothers. How he laughed at them and cursed at them. How his heart wasn’t worn on his sleeve, but in every interaction he shared with a person he met. How Veronica tried to tell her family who she was, how their father ruined that for her, how Lance took the fall.

And Keith realized not only had Lance become the most important person in his life, but he had been Veronica’s maybe his whole life.

“Veronica, I’ll treasure it for as long as he allows me to.”

And Keith meant it.

* * *

Lance pulled over, parking his Saturn at the end of a long, sporadic line of other parked cars on the side of a strip of adorable little shops. The drive over had been short, and filled with a comfortable silence, the radio playing softly as they drove through the forested streets.

Keith expected Lance to come alive as soon as he parked the car: speaking rapidly, telling stories and gesturing wildly, but as the car pulled to a stop and Lance shifted into park, he remained quiet. He seemed to be lost in his thoughts, his hand still perched on top of the steering wheel and eyes staring forward with no direction.

Keith knew something was up, and couldn’t help but remember the way Lance hadn’t spoken to his father at breakfast. How his father had tried to catch his eye. How Lance always found something else to be busy with.

Keith desperately wanted to say something.

But Keith’s never been too good with words, has he?

With a shallow sigh, Keith leaned forward and said, with a voice perhaps too soft: “Hey space cadet, you with us?”

Lance jumped, hand jerking away from the wheel. “Huh? Oh yeah, I’m good.”

Keith furrowed his brow, but shoved a smile onto his face anyway. “Glad to hear,” Keith teased lightly, desperately trying to pull Lance back from wherever he was in his head. “You still have that list your mom gave us?”

Just before they could sneak out the door, Lance’s mom had intercepted them with a grocery list and a pat on both of their cheeks. Lance had groaned and rolled his eyes, but took the list nonetheless.

“Yeah,” Lance nodded a little stiffly as he patted his jacket pocket. He wouldn’t meet Keith’s eyes.

Keith let out another small sigh. Acting normal wasn’t gonna cut it. So, Keith pulled up his metaphorical bootstraps and placed a hand on Lance’s shoulder. Lance flinched away from the contact, sending a sharp stab into Keith.

Keith withdrew his hand and sighed, yet again, before he said, “Lance, what’s going on?”

Lance just shrugged weakly.

Keith didn’t say anything for a few moments, letting the sound of the radio play in the background for a few beats so he could figure out what to say.

“Lance,” Keith started, “I heard what happened last night.” Lance’s head snapped up, his eyes wide, finally meeting Keith’s. So Keith was quick to add, “I wanted a drink and I didn’t—” Keith cut himself off with a frustrated sigh, “I didn’t mean to overhear, but I just wanted to tell you that you were really brave.”

“What?” Lance’s eyebrows twitched together.

“I just,” Keith started, but had to look away when he felt a blush start to work its way up his face. “I just think what you said was brave. And—and I’m proud of you for standing up to your dad like that. Like, I mean, he’s not a bad guy or anything, but to tell him like that was really brave.”

Keith wanted the world to swallow him whole: this was not helping.

“You think I’m brave?” Lance’s voice was so small and  _ hopeful _ that Keith had no other choice but to look at him.

And when he did, Keith’s heart stopped. Because Lance’s eyes were shiny with unshed tears.

Keith didn’t even think, he just moved. His hands found themselves on either side of Lance’s cheeks, his thumbs wiping away the unshed tears as he pulled Lance’s forehead against his own. The center console of the car dug into Keith’s stomach painfully, and his seatbelt was definitely at max stretchability, but Keith just couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Because Lance was going to cry.

And Keith couldn’t allow that to happen.

“Of course I think you’re brave,” Keith whispered into the air between them. “Of course I think that, Lance.”

Lance pressed his forehead into Keith’s, one of his hands pressing over Keith’s on his own face. “Thank you,” Lance whispered, his voice a little wobbly. 

Keith shifted them so they were hugging, Lance’s face buried in the crook of Keith’s shoulder, and Keith’s hands running (hopefully) soothing circles up and down Lance’s back.

After a few moments, Lance let out a watery laugh. “So, we hug now?”

Keith let out a laugh of his own, the tension dissolving with that sound. “Yeah, Lance, we hug now.”

* * *

“So,” Keith knocked his shoulder into Lance’s as they walked down the street, “am I going to get the grand tour of this place?”

“You want a tour of this cow-dump of a town?” Lance joked. “There’s not much to show. What you see, is basically what you get.”

“That’s fine,” Keith said. “I’m sure you can make a tour interesting.”

“I’ll try my best,” Lance said, grinning.

Keith hummed. He spotted a shop that had a huge clearance sale on body jewelry and got, perhaps, the worst best idea ever. He grabbed Lance’s hand and walked to the shop.

“What the hell do you need at a knock-off Claire’s?” Lance asked, following Keith into the store.

“You’ll see,” Keith said, making his way down to the piercings section. He spun the rack, looking through the choices. Lance picked up a Barbie-ish pink belly button piercing. Lance lifted his shirt and placed the metal onto his belly button.

“Do I look sexy?” Lance asked.

“You look like an idiot, that’s what,” Keith said with a glance.

And just that one glance was enough for Keith to curl his toes at the sight, and a hot pulse to shoot through him, pooling in his stomach. Keith wanted to run his fingers down the planes of Lance’s chest, to trace the slight indents his muscles made under his skin, to lick—wait, no. Keith had a reason for being here.

Keith cleared his throat and returned to his search, stubbornly not looking at Lance’s belly button piercing fascination.

Keith picked up a sleek metallic grey ring. He turned to Lance. “I think I’m getting this one.”

“You’re getting a lip ring?” Lance said, raising his eyebrows up to his hairline. “My dad’s going to hate that.”

“And?” Keith asked wickedly, waving the piercing, before he cocked his head to the side. “Are you going to hate it?”

“No,” Lance admitted with a squeak.

Keith smirked. “Metal fetishist.”

“Hey,” Lance squawked, but Keith was already moving to the till to pay.

After paying, Keith moved off to the side and stopped by a mirror to put in the ring. He struggled a little bit after not wearing one for so long, but eventually managed to secure the piercing.

Keith stared at himself in the mirror for a few beats, definitely second guessing himself. It was not that he thought it looked bad or anything, it was just that...well...Keith really wanted Lance to like it.

And that kind of, maybe, sort of made him nervous.

Just a little bit.

And after a few short minutes of staring at himself in the mirror, he heard Lance bound up from behind him. “Hey, sorry that took so long. I couldn’t in my right mind be in here and not pick up some stuff for Dani and Nico.”

Keith watched Lance try to shove his wallet back into his pocket as he walked up; Lance wasn’t paying attention. Keith turned around from the mirror and looked at Lance.

“I got some temporary tattoos for them…” Lance trailed off as he finally glanced up at Keith. 

Keith bit on his lip ring, pulling it into his mouth away from prying eyes. Maybe this was a dumb idea after all.

“How does it look?” Keith asked.

A blush slowly crept onto Lance’s face, his eyes wide and his mouth bobbing open a few times like a fish.

“You look great,” Lance said, voice high-pitched and a little strained. “Like…super.”

Keith chuckled, feeling his own face heat with a blush, and that annoying ball of nerves completely unravel. “Cool.”

“Cool,” Lance repeated.

* * *

“Okay, so Mamá wanted us to pick up a few things from the grocery, so we’ll do that quickly and then stop in the deli just around the corner and pick up a snack,” Lance rattled off as they walked down the street. “How does that sound?”

“Sounds good to me,” Keith shrugged, because, honestly, he was just there for the ride.

“Cool, cool, cool,” Lance nodded and looked away, his nods more of a couple of bobs then anything. “No doubt, no doubt.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “So, what do we need at the grocery?”

Lance hummed as he pulled out his list. “Usual stuff like milk and eggs. I guess Luis is back on his mostly protein diet again, and has been eating raw eggs and milk or whatever.”

“That’s really gross,” Keith knew he was pulling a face, but really? Raw eggs and milk?

“Yeah, he says it’s like a workout thing, but based off the face you just pulled I’m gonna guess he’s full of shit,” Lance chuckled. “Honestly he probably read it off some steroid-filled fitness guru on instagram and is now treating it like gospel.”

Keith let out a snort, knowing exactly the type from his workout sessions with Shiro. “God, please tell me your brother isn’t like that!”

“Like what?” Lance asks through his own chuckling. 

“Like goes to the gym to take workout selfies instead of actually workout.”

Lance groans, “Oh my god, I guarantee you that that’s exactly what he does at the gym.”

Both boys laugh, leaning heavily on each other. Keith doesn’t even realize they’ve passed into the grocery store until a blast of cool air hits his face. Lance grabs a cart and Keith falls in step.

“I thought all we needed was milk and eggs,” Keith quipped.

Lance scoffed. “As if, my mom also put a bunch of other stuff for dinner on here. Also looks like she’s going to make a cake too.”

Keith peeked at the list that Lance had pulled out, “Jeez, your mom really doesn’t mess around does she?”

“Nope,” Lance popped the ‘p’ and lead Keith into the grocery store. Lance wound his arm around Keith’s waist, hooking his thumb in Keith’s belt-loop to pull him closer against his side, and for that moment, Keith could almost allow himself to believe that this was real; that Lance was really his and not just a cover.

“C’mon, Mullet,” Lance smiled down at Keith, and Keith melted. “We’ve got a list.”

So, with one hand on the cart and the other around Keith, Lance lead them into the store, middle-aged parents and young couples merely background noise to the sound of Keith’s heart running its own marathon in his chest. A marathon that only got worse when Lance began gesturing to the shelves like a tourist guide, saying things like, “And this, here on the your right folks, is the liver spread,” and, “to your left we have the flour and sesame seeds.”

“I’ve been to a grocery store, Lance” Keith said voice flat, but smile boundless.

“And,” Lance said with an adorable shrug as he grabbed a container of corn starch from the shelf, and then dumped it into the cart. “You’ve never been to  _ this _ grocery store before.”

Keith rolled his eyes and slipped out of Lance’s hold to grab a tin of cocoa powder. Keith turned back to Lance and held up the tin. Lance nodded and dramatically checked the item off the list. Keith’s smile grew and he threw the cocoa powder into the cart.

After a few more aisles, and a lot more banter between them, Lance was sitting in the bucket of the cart making these annoyingly endearing train sounds while Keith pushed the cart around.

“Choo choo,” Lance said like a toddler learning his first words. “The Lance express is on the way.”

“God,” Keith groaned, trying his best not to laugh as he covered his face. People were staring at them, and yet, Keith didn’t feel nearly as bad as he may have if he was with anyone other than Lance. God, he was so far gone, isn’t he? “Stop embarrassing me.”

“Embarrassing you and hanging with me is a package deal, Kogane,” Lance grinned at Keith cheekily, an adorable dimple making an appearance. “But, back to what I was saying, my cousin, Alejandro? He owns a pizza shack down in Varadero that has the best pepperoni pizza of your life! I don’t even like pepperoni. And holy shit, the garlic knots? Damn, bro. I could die a happy man as long as I get to take another bite of that delicious garlic-y goodness, yum.”

Keith’s cheeks hurt from grinning—probably like an idiot. Lance was rambling about his family back in Varadero, and while maybe Keith should find it annoying, or boring, or  _ something _ other than horribly charming, Keith just couldn’t find it in himself to try. Because the way Lance’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree made the butterflies in Keith’s stomach go wild. Because the way Lance’s words and childhood memories tumbled out of his fast-moving mouth lit something warm in Keith’s chest. Because the way the corners of Lance’s lips upturned like he was torn between talking to or smiling brightly at Keith made Keith’s heart skip a beat.

“Varadero is magical, man,” Lance sighed dreamily. “I miss it so much!” There was a beat and then Lance groaned dramatically, before he slumped into the side of the metal cart. It clang from his weight. “The water is just so  _ blue _ and  _ clear _ and ugh! You can see all the fishes and corals—it’s downright beautiful, my dude.”

“It definitely does sound magical with the way you describe it,” Keith said with a chuckle, rounding the cart into the queue. “Alright, last stop. We’re at the check out now.”

“Aww, party pooper,” Lance pouted, but nonetheless still hopped out of the cart with his two meter long legs.

“I’m not your babysitter,” Keith quipped.

Lance hummed thoughtfully as he took a dangerous step closer to Keith. “Could’ve fooled me,” Lance’s smile was something handsome and deadly.

Keith hummed back, unable to hold back his own smile at Lance. “Hm, I do babysit you often, don’t I?”

“Being my boyfriend is pretty similar, actually,” Lance shot back, taking Keith’s hips into his warm hands and pulling him in.

And that. That’s finally what broke the spell. Because this whole thing was fake, wasn’t it? It was all fake, and Lance was faking, and Keith was a fucking idiot letting himself pretend it was real.

Keith felt his smile fall and he had to look away. He placed a hand on Lance’s chest. “Fake boyfriend,” Keith corrected, the words falling like rocks from his mouth.

“Right,” Lance’s lazy, handsome, dangerous smile slipped from his face and the warmth of his hands fell away from Keith’s hips. Lance took a step back, “Sorry.”

And then Keith felt guilty because the look on Lance’s face said more Kicked Puppy than anything else. Keith took a step forward, his hand hovering above Lance’s shoulder, his mouth opening to say something—anything—

_ “Lance?” _

Both boys heads whipped around. Standing on the cashier’s side of the till was a very attractive young man about their age. His dark brown eyebrows were furrowed and his honey coloured eyes shone with some level of excited recognition. His nametag read ‘Carlos’.

Keith glanced back at Lance only to see his jaw clenched and his shoulders pulled into a stiff line. Lance’s eyes cut from the guy at the end of the till to Keith and then back, his shoulders pulling tighter than Keith even thought possible. Lance let out a harsh sigh and pulled the cart closer to himself, putting a barrier between himself and Keith. Lance began angrily placing the items in the cart onto the conveyor belt.

Keith sent a look at the cashier, but he seemed frozen in place, his big brown eyes on Lance. Despite the hum of the conveyor belt, the idle chatter of the other patrons, and the distant beeping of the checkout, the space between the three of them it was painfully wide and quiet.

And Keith had no idea what was happening.

“Is—” the boy jolted back to life, “Lance, is that really you?” He shook his head, a disbelieving smile curling his plump lips. “Man, I haven’t seen you since graduation. I didn’t know you were back in town.”

Lance kept piling the groceries onto the belt. “Yeah, I’m back.” The words were stilted and he didn’t even look up.

Another wide silence, and trapped on the other side of the cart, Keith was helpless to do anything other than rock back on his heels and stare back and forth at both boys. One tight lipped and angry, and the other excited and disbelieving.

“How’ve you been?” Carlos asked.

“Fine,” Lance said.

Carlos nodded, losing some of his cool. “That’s good.” Another tense moment of silence. Carlos began scanning and bagging the items. “I heard you moved to the city,” Carlos tried again. “How’s that been?”

“Fine,” Lance did everything short of spit the word onto the conveyor belt, still not looking Carlos’ direction.

“Right,” Carlos sighed.

_ Oh my fuck,  _ thought Keith. This was probably the most awkward thing Keith had ever witnessed in his life. Carlos scanned the items in silence for a few painful minutes, bagging the groceries swiftly in between furtive glances Lance’s way.

“Are you back for the whole summer?” Carlos asked hesitantly.

“No,” Lance bit out.

“Right,” Carlos cut his eyes back to the groceries in front of him. “I’ll be here all summer.”

Lance didn’t even say anything to that. Just pushed the empty cart forwards and began placing the bagged groceries into the cart. Keith was finally able to get close to Lance and when he went to place a hand on Lance’s lower back, he flinched. So, with a pang in his chest, Keith retreated.

“These for your mom, then?” Carlos gestured to the groceries before him, and  _ fucking Christ _ , just stop trying.

“Yeah,” Lance snapped, and Keith was dying of second-hand embarrassment.

Carlos sighed and finally allowed the silence—the painful,  _ painful _ , silence—to stagnate. The only noise were the beeping of the scanner, the rustle of paper bags, and small huffs of breath Lance gave.

“Well, that’s about it,” Carlos said, packing up the final items into a paper bag. “That’ll be one-forty-one ninety-five.”

Lance quickly grabbed the credit card his mom had shoved into his hands as they left, and slammed it down onto the counter.

Keith winced and placed a hand on Lance’s shoulder. “Hey, easy there.”

“Who’s this?” Carlos said, seemingly just now noticing Keith’s presence. “Friend of yours?”

“Could be,” Lance muttered under his breath.

“I’m his  _ boyfriend, _ ” Keith said, curling his hand around Lance’s shoulder protectively.

“Oh,” Carlos said breathily, “Right then.” Carlos handed Lance his mom’s credit card back with the receipt and smiled this serene little smile. “Tell Luis I said hi.”

Lance stood there for a second, his face shuttering for a brief moment, his mouth open as if he couldn’t believe what Carlos just said. He recovered fast, though, a mask of indifference sliding over his features before he spit an icy, “Fuck you,” into the space between them.

Then Lance turned out of Keith’s grasp, grabbed the handle of the cart, and marched out of the store.

Keith stood there for a moment, not understanding what just happened, but angry nonetheless. Keith could feel that old anger bubbling up in him. The anger from his teens that got him labelled as a menace. The anger that got him expelled from school district after school district. The anger that made his hands curl into fists at his sides, and made him want to pound, and pound, and pound this guys face in.

Keith let it boil up inside of himself, but instead of rearranging this guys face in a small town grocery chain, Keith found himself shaking his head at the cashier and walking out after Lance.

* * *

“Lance!” Keith whipped out into the parking lot, the afternoon wind whipping Keith’s hair into his face. “Lance!” Keith jogged after Lance who was already halfway to the car, his shoulders stiff and his strides long.

Keith finally caught up to Lance as he stopped at the trunk of his Saturn. “Lance, what the fuck was that?”

“It was nothing, Keith,” Lance kept his head down as he fumbled with his keys to open the trunk from the outside.

“That was obviously not nothing!” Keith exclaimed, his anger like a rabid dog bashing itself against the metal walls of a cage.

“Just drop it, Keith,” Lance spat finally pulling the trunk open.

“I’m not going to drop it,” Keith bristled, angry about what happened in the store, angry that Lance won’t look at him, angry that he doesn’t know how to help.

“Keith,” Lance’s voice was firm, bordering on angry.

“Don’t ‘Keith’ me!” Keith forced his hands out of fists. “You’re upset. He upset you and I wanna know why.”

Lance whirled around to face Keith then. A horribly shattered look on his face. “You’re not my boyfriend Keith!” He exclaimed. “You don’t need to know why!”

And that stung: a blow directly to Keith’s heart. Keith took a step back and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter if I’m your real boyfriend or not. I’m your friend either way, aren’t I?”

Lance stared at Keith for a few moments, his eyes hard and his breathing harder. He clenched his jaw and looked away, his hands still balled into angry fists at his sides.

“Aren’t I?” Keith’s voice cracked and Lance shut his eyes. The afternoon sun turned his skin golden brown, luminous in the mid-May light. His short hair whipped around his face in the early-summer wind as his light Spring jacket made light clicking noises as it hit his hip.

Lance took a deep breath in, then looked back at Keith.

“It doesn’t matter what happened, anymore,” Lance wasn’t yelling anymore. HIs voice wasn’t hardened, it wasn’t angry, or tense; just tired. It wobbled and he shook his head and made an aborted gesture. “It’s over and he plays college football at Washington State.” Lance levelled his blue eyes at Keith, a plea to just let it go hidden in them. “It doesn’t matter.”

Keith stared at Lance. His heart breaking, unable to do something right, unsure if he should push harder, or just let it lie. Keith stared at Lance in the afternoon sun and didn’t tell him that of course it mattered. Keith didn’t tell him that it mattered because Lance was upset. Keith didn’t tell him that it mattered because Keith cared if Lance was upset.

Keith didn’t say anything at all, actually.

He just stared at him, glittering and beautiful, like an ancient golden statue, before turning to the cart and loading the groceries into the back of the Saturn in silence.

* * *

The car ride back to Lance’s family home was painfully silent. The radio was turned down low, and Lance’s knuckles were white on the wheel. Keith wanted to break the tension, but never knew how.

Lance parked the car and popped the trunk wordlessly. He slid out of the driver's seat without a glance in Keith’s direction. Lance loaded grocery bags into his arms and started towards the house, his shoulders tense and his stride long.

Keith sighed, grabbed the last of the groceries and followed.

By the time Keith made it to the house, Lance had already deposited his load. He had this horrible fake smile pinned on his face as he walked into the living room where Luis was sitting on the couch next to a girl Keith had never seen before.

Keith was toeing off his shoes when Lance said, “Hey Luis, Carlos says hi,” and then brushed past Keith back towards his car, the door slamming a little behind him, making Keith jump a little.

The house was still for a few beats and then it erupted in noise.

“Did he say Carlos?”

“When did  _ he _ come back to town?”

“Where is he going?”

“Keith, come into the kitchen with those.”

“Where the fuck is my jacket?”

“Luis, do not follow your brother.”

“I’ve got it, Mamá.”

“It’s my fucking fault. I’m going after him.”

“Thank you, Veronica.”

“Lu, calm down, babe.”

“Keith, honey.”

“Shit!”

And then the second slam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, don't be mad, we're back in a week. :)
> 
> Karlee:  
> [Personal Tumblr](https:/:sunscreams.tumblr.com)  
> [Voltron Tumblr](https://klancend.tumblr.com)
> 
> Dee:  
> [Tumblr](https://vampingqueen.tumblr.com)  
> 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's always sunny in Upstate New York part 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so, so much for your lovely comments. We may not respond to all of them, but both Dee and I read them all. You are all so lovely.
> 
> Quick warning at the beginning of this chapter: a homophobic slur is used. If you're un-comfy w that, jump from "Guess who wasn't?" to "Keith had to close his eyes..." I wanna apologize for how close I've had to cut it, the slur is dropped right in the middle of some plot stuff. I also would like to link [this article](https://www.huffingtonpost.com/monica-trasandes/maricona-word-that-haunts_b_3744544.html&sa=D&ust=1542412473765000&usg=AFQjCNHAgxv3FQ2pDFRftG8GhadOTb26JQ). It gives a really run down of homophobia, and homophobic slurs in Latin American Spanish. If you have the time, I highly recommend checking it out. 
> 
> As always, please send love to our lovely [beta](https://galaxy-gayrrison.tumblr.com).

Not for the first time, Keith was confused.

Keith was confused about a lot of things, but mostly his confusion was directed towards a singular boy which was Lance McClain.

A whole enigma.

“Keith, honey,” a hand on his arm pulled Keith out of whatever state he was in. Keith flinched from the contact. “Come put those down.” Elena’s face was kind, but Keith feared that her kindness might not be enough to stop the pounding in his chest.

“Lance, he’s—” Keith started, but Elena’s hand on his arm began to pull him, a little more firmly.

“He’s going to be okay, Keith,” Elena pulled him into the kitchen. She gestured at the counter where the other groceries were and Keith placed them down.

Keith sighed and leaned against the counter. “I just wish he would let me help him,” Keith whispered, mostly to himself.

Elena sighed lightly, her hand rubbing soothing circles onto Keith’s back. “I know,  _ mijo _ ,” she sighed again, “But sometimes you have to let them be angry first.”

Keith turned to face her, a confused look on his face. She pulled him over to a small bistro table with only two chairs on either side—a breakfast nook—and asked him to sit down. Keith did and she took the opposite chair .

“Keith, the people we love want us to see only the best parts of themselves. They want us to see them happy, and strong, and whole. They don’t want us to see them cracked or broken.” She gave him a sad smile. “And what Carlos did to Lance…” Elena shakes her head, an angry look on her face, “Carlos was not good Lance, and I won’t say that Lance is right to shut you out, but I think you need to give him time.”

Keith knew about needing time; he was the king of needing time. But hadn’t Keith proved to Lance that he would be there for him no matter what just that afternoon? Hadn’t Keith proved that he wouldn’t judge Lance for crying, or hurt him more by leaving? Hadn’t Keith proven himself to be someone Lance could rely on?

Why was this suddenly so different?

Keith sighed and rubbed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets.

“Don’t blame yourself, okay?” Elena pulls one of Keith’s hands away from his eyes, and wraps it between her own. “He will come around, he always does.” A wicked smile curls over her lips, “He’s too dramatic not to.”

That cracked a smile out of Keith.

“Now,” Elena put her hands on her hips, a mock-disapproving look on her face. “Tell me when you go that lip-ring, young man.”

* * *

Keith was playing legos with Dani and Nico when Veronica approached him, a look of determination on her face and her forehead was creased with lines of worry. Keith knew then what exactly she wanted to talk about.

“Sorry, guys, I think I need to talk to your aunt for a bit,” Keith said, sad smile on his face as he got up.

“It’s okay,” Dani said, “we’ll manage without you. The princess can kick butt on her own.”

“You bet she can, Dani,” Keith couldn’t stop himself from ruffling her hair affectionately.

“Rawr,” Nico yelled as he attacked the castle with his dragon.

“Hey!” Dani cried, both at Keith’s ruffling and at Nico’s attack.

Keith chuckled. “Have fun,” he said, going for both of their heads this time.

They swatted at Keith’s hands, giggling all the while.

Keith’s smile died as he followed Veronica onto the front porch.

Once the door closed behind them, Veronica plopped down onto the steps, her posture rigid and her shoulders tense. Her hair was gathered into a small, horribly disheveled bun, small wisps draping down onto her neck and around her face. Keith sighed, walked towards her and sat down next to her. Surprisingly, Veronica dropped her head onto Keith’s shoulder as if they were close friends. She seemed tired.

They both stared across the front yard for a few silent beats. The sun was shining, and the clouds were fluffy, and birds twittered happily in the sky. There must have been windchimes somewhere on the property, their sound soothing to Keith’s ears. Soothing in the same way Lance’s laugh was: sharp, but nice to listen to. The type of laugh that lit up an entire room, no matter how dreary it was.

Veronica lifted her head from Keith’s shoulder, and pulled something out from her coat’s pocket.

“You mind if I smoke?” she asked, holding a box of cigarettes and a lighter.

“No,” Keith sighed. “Could I have one?”

Veronica’s lips ticked up. “Sure,” and she shook two cigarettes out of the carton.

Keith accepted the stick and stuck it between his lips. Veronica lit it up for him, and then her own.

Keith took a long drag, exhaling the smoke into the calm afternoon air. Keith hadn’t had a cigarette in a long time; he hadn’t needed it. But right now, Keith felt like he needed it.

“Damn, I needed that,” Veronica sighed, her eyes closed and her posture slumped.

Keith chuckled, “I, um,” Keith cleared his throat. “I was gonna say the same thing.”

Veronica sent him a sad smile then looked back at the yard. She took another drag before saying, “I think you know what I’m going to say.”

“Yeah,” Keith said, because he had an idea. “Say it anyways,” Keith said, because it was only an idea.

“Keith,” she started, her eyebrows pinched together. “I know we’ve talked about this already and I’m not gonna lie, you did a really fucking good job answering earlier, but…” Veronica sighed, “Shit. I need to know that you’re in this for the long haul.”

And Keith paused because of the term ‘long haul.’ His heart jumped, and his stomach clenched. He rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes, his cigarette dangling between his fingertips. Keith felt exhausted: like it was 3am instead of 3pm.

It’s been less than a day since he arrived here, and less than two months since Lance and Keith started fake dating, but Keith would be a liar if he said he hadn’t thought about it. That he’d thought about staying with Lance if it was real. That he’d thought about what it would be like to have that option. To not have to worry about some deadline: when Allura and Shiro were ready to date them. Keith wouldn’t have to wait for Lance to decide he didn’t want to pretend anymore.

Because if it was real, Keith would just bask in the love that was in Lance’s heart. Because Lance was sure to be a very attentive boyfriend if this fake shit was any indication. And Keith wanted that so badly. He wanted to wake up in Lance’s arms every day. He wanted to be able to kiss Lance in the grocery store, and hold his hand, and smooth back his hair, and kiss away his tears, and help him work through his problems. 

Keith wanted that so badly.

And if that was what Veronica meant by ‘long haul’, then yeah. Keith was in this for the fucking long haul.

And he would be until Lance told him he didn’t want him anymore.

So, with a little more feeling than he’d intended, Keith said, “Of course.”

A sad sort of smile twitched onto Veronica’s face. She looked away after a few beats and took another drag, the embers of her cigarette glowing brightly. She let the smoke out in one big huff. “I’m glad to hear that, Keith.”

She flicked the ash off the ned of her cigarette and turned back to Keith. “Things with Lance are never half-assed, you know?” She let out a little chuckle then. “He goes one hundred and ten percent on everything he does, especially when it comes to relationships, and you can’t blame him for that.” She shakes her head and looks away, a fond smile on her face. “He’s just got so much love in his heart, and it would be such a major loss to the world if he loved any less than he does, you feel me?”

“Yeah,” Keith had to clear his throat because, fuck, did he know. “I feel you,” Keith fiddled with his cigarette.

“He’s got a lot of baggage,” Veronica quipped, “More than an airport.”

Keith let out a weak laugh, and Veronica joined in. She bumped their shoulders together, a gesture that warmed Keith immeasurably.

“So, now it’s my job to ask if you’re willing to shoulder all that,” Veronica paused, and her smile melted a little. “It’s why he’s hurt so easily,” she pressed her face into her opposite shoulder.

She glanced down at her cigarette, “I can’t explain to you what happened today at the grocery store, because that’s Lance’s story to tell and he…” she trailed off, a troubled look clouding her features. “He’s my brother, and he’s just such a great guy. And I know we shit on him a lot, but that’s ‘cause we love him. He doesn’t deserve a lot of things we say, but he certainly doesn’t deserve what happened today, what so I’m asking of you is to  _ please _ make the right decision.”

Keith bit his lip at met Veronica’s eyes. They were a beautiful chocolate brown, wide and deep with meaning.

“I’ll try, Veronica,” Keith cleared his throat, “I’m really gonna try.”

A small smile twitched her lips, and she nodded once.

Keith was going to make the right decision.

* * *

“Hey, Veronica?”

“Yeah, Keith?”

“Is it just me, or is there another person here that I haven’t met?”

Veronica laughed. “Oh yeah, while you and Lance were out, Lisa—Luis’ girlfriend got here.”

“Okay, good,” Keith sighed, “I thought I’d forgotten someone’s name.”

“You’d never recover if you asked.”

“Veronica, I’d never ask.”

* * *

It wasn’t until much later that afternoon that Keith saw Lance again, and it was completely by accident. Dani and Nico had gotten ahold of Keith, dragging him down to the docs to skip rocks with them.

“I don’t know how to skip rocks, you guys,” Keith’s protests fell into deaf ears.

“That’s okay, Keith,” Dani pulled him along harder, “I’ll show you.”

Keith chuckled, “Thanks, Dani.”

“Keith, I’m gonna show you how far I can skip mine!” Nico cheered, jumping and dancing around. “It’s gonna be like, at least a million skips!” Nico mimed throwing a rock and made a bunch of noises that Keith assumed were supposed to be rock-skipping noises.

“Nico, you can’t skip a rock a million times,” Dani rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, you totally can,” Nico rolled his eyes back, and Keith couldn’t help but laugh.

“Hey, look it’s Tío Lance!” Dani dropped Keith’s hand and ran towards the figure Keith just noticed sitting on the dock.

“Tío Lance!” Nico cheered and darted off after his sister.

Keith pulled up short. Lance was here. He was sitting on the docks, his pants rolled up and his feet dangling in the water, looking off over the lake. He was gorgeous. With the sun glittering off the water behind him, and the wind ruffling his hair, Keith felt almost like he was in a trance.

But then the kids were running on the dock, and that probably wasn’t safe. “Hey! Nico, Dani, slow down!” Keith yelled and began running after them.

By the time Keith caught up, both kids had already swarmed Lance, their mouths moving a mile a minute in both English and Spanish, and a small smile had warmed Lance’s face. He was turned up onto the dock, one of his legs curled under him and both of his arms steadying the kids so close to the water.

“Hey,” Lance said as Keith approached.

“Hey,” Keith replied, unable to keep his eyes away.

“Keith said he would skip rocks with us,” Dani said to Lance.

“Yeah, and I’m gonna show him my one million skips,” Nico wiggled with excitement.

“Woah, one million skips?” Lance made a face.

“Yeah, Tío, I did it last time,” Nico’s smile was brighter than the sun: a McClain trait.

“That’s awesome!” Lance cheered, “You guys better go find some super cool skipping rocks.”

“Okay!” The twins chirped before dashing back to the shore to find some rocks to skip.

Lance and Keith watched them go in silence.

“Those two,” Lance said after a few beats, chuckling. “They’re adorable, aren’t they?”

“Yeah,” Keith agreed, crossing his arms. “I don’t really like kids, but somehow these two are an exception.”

“They’re everyone’s exception,” Lance said. “You can’t say no to those faces. Their puppy-dog eyes are lethal, man.”

“They are,” Keith shook his head. “They roped me into playing Legos with them all afternoon.”

Lance winced, “Super princess versus magic dragon?”

“Yeah,” Keith laughed.

Lance shook his head, “A classic.”

Keith nodded, “Yeah.”

Keith still couldn’t keep his eyes off Lance. It had only been a few hours since he last saw him, but, fuck, Keith sure realized a lot of things in those last few hours. Keith felt like a whole new person and standing in front of Lance with his beautiful caramel skin, and his wonderful smile, and his ears that stick out too much, Keith felt like maybe his heart would explode.

Keith forced his eyes away for a second, but it felt like too long, and when he looked back, Lance was waiting for him. His eyes were shimmering like pool water does when sunlight hits the surface: glittery and constantly moving. His eyes were a kaleidoscope of deep blues and bright silvers and Keith felt like he could get lost in them forever.

Keith didn’t think he would mind.

Keith sent Lance a small smile, and Lance sent one back, but the light of it never reached his eyes.

And that reminded Keith of the way he looked at the grocery store. The way Lance’s eyes hardened at the sight of Carlos. The way his eyes dimmed into a murky color like that of a dead fish.

Keith cleared his throat and averted his gaze, letting his eyes skitter across the two kids playing before focusing onto his feet. “So…Carlos,” and promptly winced at his attempt of bringing it up.

“Yeah, that was weird,” Lance replied and tucked a piece of hair behind one of his ears. Keith wished he could tangle his fingers into Lance’s unruly curls. Keith wanted to feel the warmth of Lance’s cheeks against his cool palms. He wanted to touch, to memorize every inch, every crest of his being. Keith’s fingers twitched, itching to move, but instead of reaching out like he wanted, Keith clenched them tightly, fixating his gaze onto the moving ripples of the water.

“So you know each other?” Keith asked, and boy, does he feel like an idiot.  _ Duh, no shit. _

“Yeah, we do,” Lance admitted. 

The tension between them was thick. It felt like a heavy hand pressing down on them from every angle; suffocating. Lance glanced to the water, then back to Keith.

“Ready to talk about it?” Keith asked, trying his hardest not to just push Lance to answer.

Lance shrugged, “I guess.” Lance looked up at him. “Sit down, you look super awkward up there.”

“Lance,” Keith sighed, but sat down anyway, feeling some of the tension slip out of the air.

Lance just sent a crooked smile Keith’s way, “Tell me I was wrong.”

Keith just rolled his eyes because he couldn’t.

“He… uh,” Lance started, clearing his throat. “He was my boyfriend…for a while back in high school.”

“Yeah?” Keith said, glancing towards the boy next to him.

“I mean, I’m not sure if I could count him as my boyfriend,” Lance said, scratching the back of his head. “Honestly, we just messed around with each other. You know? Making out behind the bleachers, fucking in the backseat of my car, the usual stuff.”

Keith chuckled, “Yeah, the usual stuff, right.” Because Lance and Keith had very different high school lives apparently.

Lance bumped their shoulders together, his crooked smile coming back as he laughed softly. “Whatever.”

“But, I don’t know,” Lance sighed and his smile faded. “I got my hopes up. He was the first guy I’d ever been with and it was exciting.” Lance let out a deep sigh. “And when we were together, he was really nice to me. Something I didn’t get from a lot of the other guys.”

Lance paused, his eyebrows drawing together as he shook his head again. “For a time, I thought we’d be  _ forever _ and all that shit. It feels chiche to say, but he was my first love. And it was awesome. Us against the world.”

“They always are, aren’t they?” Keith remembered the way he kissed James Griffin in the boy’s locker room after soccer practice back in high school. How their fling had been hot and fast and completely covert. How he’d rambled to Shiro about James for hours about how fun things were.

Lance laughed, a sad little sound, “But it went bad.”

Then Keith remembered how they’d been caught once. How James had shoved Keith away. How he’d wiped his mouth off with a look of disgust on his face. How he’d told everyone he just tried to be nice and that Keith was a pervert. That he was—

“I can relate to that,” Keith cleared his throat and glanced back at Lance.

His eyes were shadowed, ghosts of his past love carving out deep circles under them. And Keith forgot about the world. He forgot that in only a few days, he would have to go back to work. That he would have to go back to his small, cold apartment. That he wouldn’t see Lance every morning, or be surrounded by the sounds of children playing and people laughing. Keith forgot about his own ghosts that rested under his own eyes in an instant. None of it mattered anymore because Lance had them too.

And all was left was them.

_ Us against the world _ , his mind whispered.

“Us against the world,” Lance repeated, “Such a funny thing.” Lance shook his head. “I found out Carlos was fucking me for Luis.”

And the spell broke. “W-what?” Keith sputtered.

“Yeah,” Lance breathed. “I look exactly like him, right?”

And Keith’s heart sunk, his mind flashing back to that very morning. How he’d checked out Luis. How he’d lusted over  _ Luis’s _ ass, and his back, and his arms. How he’d wanted nothing more than to jump his bones, unable to tell the difference until it was obvious.

_ Oh my God,  _ Keith’s brain said,  _ Oh no. _

“An exact fucking copy,” Lance laughed sardonically, and Keith wanted to say no. Wanted to be able to say that Lance looked completely different, but he couldn’t. Because just that morning, Keith had mistaken them.

“Lance,” Keith started, but was cut off when Lance raised a hand.

“They were on the same football team,” Lance explained with a drawl. “Fucking asshole jerked it for my brother. Unfortunately, Luis is a plain ole’ hetero, but guess who wasn’t? His twin brother.  _ El maricón _ .”

Keith had to close his eyes against the emotion building up in his chest. Because maybe he’d never heard that exact word thrown at him, in that accent, or in that language, but the sentiment was still the same. Keith was very familiar with the way the meaning of that word could burn into someone’s skin, and gouge out someone’s heart. The way those syllables could eat away at someone’s conscience and turn them into something angry and burning hot.

An old cigarette, is what they called it in English.

And a coward, in Spanish.

“Lance, I’m so sorry,” Keith voice was painfully raw, his eyes glazing over a bit as he reached over and threaded his fingers with Lance’s. “Jesus Christ.”

“Hey,” Lance tugged on Keith’s hand, “it’s all good in the hood, my man,” Lance said breezily, waving his hand flippantly. “Past is past, yanno? We’re all human here.”

And does Keith feel like an ass. He squeezes Lances fingers again, wanting to do more, wishing he knew how.

“Stop that,” Lance scolded.

“Stop what?” Keith asked, confusion written all over his face.

“You look constipated. Stop feeling so bad for me. Everything’s fine, dude.”

Keith balked. “I don’t feel bad for you.”

“Asshole,” Lance quipped, “I bear my heart to you and you don’t feel bad, rude.”

Keith scoffed, “Asshole! You just told me to stop feeling so bad for you.”

“Yeah, because I didn’t want it to go on for too long,” Lance teased.

“You little shit,” Keith leaned in and went in for the kill: tickling.

Lance shrieked, “Keith!” and dodged, leaning over to mount his own attack against Keith.

Which was obviously a bad idea considering they were literally perched on the dock, legs dangling from above the water. Lance pushed Keith away, which tipped his balanced. Keith leaned towards the lake, but not before pulling the collar of Lance’s shirt. They both fell in with a splash.

The water was  _ freezing. _

Keith gasped for breath as he resurfaced. Keith shoved his wet hair out of his face and blinked water droplets out of his eyelashes. He sputtered and shivered violently. Lance returned to the surface with a breathy laugh through his chattering teeth, up-beat laughter shaking his body. Their clothes stuck to their skin like scotch tape. Lance splashed some more of the cold water into Keith’s face.

“You literally look like a drowned rat with that mullet of yours,” Lance cackled.

Keith frowned, face darkening. “You dick!” Keith yelled and lunged after Lance, who made a small shriek and dived down underneath. Keith screamed when Lanced pulled him down with his leg, yanking him into the freezy depths again.

When they were underwater, they just stared at each other. Lance looked at him with mischievous eyes. Keith leveled him with a glare that burned like a thousands suns. Their hair floated like kelp around them, limbs sprawled all over, feet kicking.

Lance then grinned, small bubbles escaping his mouth. He moved towards Keith, pushing him towards the pole, pinning him there. Keith’s hand roamed over Lance’s chest, fingers clenching and unclenching.

Keith pushed himself up to the surface with lake-water clogging his nose. When he breached the surface, he pulled himself back up onto the dock and coughed up the droplets clinging to the depths of his lungs.

“Fuck you, you almost drowned me,” Keith said, punching Lance on the shoulder and soon as Lance hoisted himself up next to him.

Lance laughed, “But you didn’t.”

Keith pushed him lightly again, his hand splayed over Lance’s chest. He felt wet skin.

Lance smirked and caught Keith’s hand in his own. “Come here, I’m freezing,” and pulled Keith into the messiest hug ever. Keith rolled his eyes, but allowed himself to bask in the warmth of Lance’s chest and the late afternoon sun, high in the sky.

“Hey,” Keith said, tucking a strand of wet hair behind Lance’s ear. “You know can talk to me.”

“About what?” Lance said softly.

“Anything,” Keith said, unable to stop playing with hair on the nape of Lance’s neck. “You know, you get a little quiet when you think too hard on things.”

“You’re not any different,” replied Lance.

“This isn’t about me,” Keith shot back, licking his lips.

“I told you I was good, Keith,” Lance’s eyebrows pulled together.

“I know,” Keith looked away, but couldn’t leave it there. Keith was going to make the right decision. “It’s just, you bottle everything up and shove it deep down until it literally explodes from the pressure,” Keith couldn’t look at Lance while he said this: it felt too close—to intimate—for what they were. So, Keith looked across the water to where Nico and Dani were picking along the shore for rocks. “It took me a long time to figure out, but it’s not healthy, Lance.”

Lance scoffed, “You’re awfully being a bit hypocritical here, don’t you think?”

Keith winced. “Probably more than I wanna admit…and I’m sorry. But—” and Keith cut himself off again, and took a steadying breath, “We’ve gotta to be honest with each from now on. Sure, we might only be fake dating, but you’re my best friend and I’m here for you. No bullshit.”

And Keith could do that: no bullshit. He could be honest and open with Lance. He could be a steady presence at Lance’s side. He could be whatever—would be whatever—Lance needed him to be. He just needed the same from Lance.

And maybe it was a little shitty to include a secret asterisk on “no bullshit” concerning his capital-F Feelings for Lance, but Keith couldn’t bear the thought of losing Lance fake or otherwise.

“No bullshit,” Lance repeated. He hummed, “Yeah, I can do that I guess.”

“No guessing,” Keith said, suddenly needing to look Lance in the eye for this. “You’re Lance McClain and you never half-ass anything. You’re the guy who gives one hundred and ten percent in everything.” Keith’s eyes frailed down to Lance’s heart, his hand following not long after, “Especially when concerning your heart.”

Lance was quiet for a few moments. Then he joked, a little unsteadily, “You trying to make my biography, Kogane?”

Keith rolled his eyes and shoved Lance lightly with the hand on his chest. “I’m just saying! You can talk to me about stuff! You don’t have to shut me out and abandon me in your family home.”

This time, Lance winced. “Right. Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” Keith said, “I know better than to disturb a sleeping dog.”

_ I got bitten _ , Keith thought.

“Sleeping dog?” Lance said with a laugh. “You and your metaphors.”

“You know what I mean!” Keith growled, hitting Lance’s shoulder again.

Lance laughed some more.

Keith took a steadying breath. “Just talk to me next time, okay? You can trust me.”

“I do trust you,” Lance said, “but you gotta do the same for me.”

“Of course.”

Then there was screaming and Keith had never moved so fast as he did then, dashing from where he was piled on top of Lance at the end of the docks to where Nico and Dani were at the shore, Lance hot on his heels.

“What happened?” Lance was frantic and winded. “Why did you scream? Are you guys okay?” He was flitting between the twins, checking them over for injuries.

“Tío, stop,” Nico pushed Lance away. “Dani saw a frog and freaked out when it jumped at her.”

“Hey!” Dani crossed her arms, “You screamed too, Nico!”

Lance let out a relieved chuckle, and Keith felt himself let out the breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding. “Hey, it’s okay, guys. Frogs are scary sometimes,” Lance pulled the twins into his chest, hugging them more out of relief that anything.

“Yeah, one time Tío Lance cried because a grasshopper jumped at him,” Keith added, and the twins lit up, Lance letting out an indignant squawk.

“That is 100% untrue, don’t listen to Keith,” Lance began guiding the kids back towards the house.

“Tío, you freaked out at Mamá’s birthday because there was an ant,” Nico said with possibly the driest look Keith had ever seen on the face of a four year old.

“Unbelievable,” Lance said indignant, “Betrayed by my own family.”

* * *

Keith didn’t ever think he was going to get used to lively meals, but Keith also never thought he’d ever be able to get enough of them either.

Even though they’d finished eating ages ago, the kids spirited off to bed by Cora, the adults—or almost adults—of the family remained huddled around the dining table, teasing each other and filling the halls of their home with warmth and laughter.

“No!” Lance exclaimed, fully recovered from the Carlos Incident. “No, that did not happen. Keith don’t listen to a word these traitors say.” Lance’s smile was as wide as the night sky in the desert, and his eyes as blue and beautiful as the sea.

Keith laughed, “So you’re telling me, you, Lance McClain, did not recreate Shakira’s ‘Hips Don’t Lie’ music video by yourself?”

“I—” Lance started and then turned to Luis, his eyes narrowed dangerously, “I should have eaten you in the womb.”

“Oh, Lance, I thought it was cute,” Elena says, leaning across the table to pinch his cheeks.

“Mamá,” Lance whined, swatting her hands away.

“I’m just sad I wasn’t alive yet to witness this,” Rachel teased.

“Nah, count your blessings you were just a bundle of cells. Lance did not pull off the pink Jasmine costume,” Veronica quipped.

“Or the shirts tied into crop tops,” Marco added.

“Um, okay that’s the biggest lie of all,” Lance leaned his elbows onto the table. “I look great in a crop top and all of you know it.”

The table laughed at that, but Keith couldn’t help but picture it. Lance’s hips moving rhythmically as a crop top showed them off. Acres of smooth brown skin and wonderfully tight muscles, all moving and working in a hypnotizing display of sensual and physical strength. God, Lance would work up a sweat, even with all the dancing, small beads of moisture rolling down Lance’s body, making him glisten.

“Okay,” Luis jolted Keith out of his musings. “But for real, Shakira was such a babe. No offence, Lisa.”

“None taken, I love Shakira,” the petite blonde woman sitting next to Luis laughed.

“Oh god, right?” Marco chimed in. “I had the biggest crush on her in high school.”

“I was more of a Natalie Portman kind of guy, myself,” Lance quipped, “My taste is a little more refined.”

Marco and Luis both gasped in mock offence while the rest of the table laughed. “Are you implying that Queen Shakira was not a goddess among mortals?” Marco placed his hand on his chest, as if the words had sparked deep offence.

“I never said that!” Lance called back.

“God, I love Natalie Portman,” Elena said, “It’s like she never ages.”

“Right?!” Veronica leaned forward, “What is her secret?”

“What is her secret?” Hector leaned over and nudged Rachel in the arm, “Your mamá needs it.”

“Papá!” Rachel exclaimed, a huge smile on her face as she turned to Elena. The rest of the table ooh-ed.

“Oh, you don’t have to  protect me against your pap á, Rachel .” Elena turned her gaze to Hector, “I know he won’t come over here.”

The table ooh-ed again.

“C’mere, Hector,” Elena’s eyes twinkled.

“Nah, mam á, I’m good over here,” he chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“That’s right, Hector. D on’t let the grey hairs fool you, you walk over here, and you’ll be limping back.”

The table erupted in ooh’s and laughter. “Kinky, Mam á!” Lance exclaimed.

“Leandro,” Elena gasped, a smile on her face.

“Mama’s bouta pull out  _ La Chancla _ ,” Luis quipped.

“Pap á better run!” Rachel called.

“Mamá’d get him anyway!” Veronica laughed.

The rest of the table continued to laugh and joke, carrying the bit and allowing it to evolve into the next topic of conversation. The transition was seamless, but that wasn’t what made Keith take pause.

It was the soft smile on Elena’s face and the twinkle in Hector’s eyes as they looked at each other, a table and all of their children between them. They looked so in love, even after five kids and close to 30 years together, they looked happy. And they only had eyes for each other. 

It made Keith’s heart ache. Not only for the childhood he could have had with parents like this, but for the love he wished he could’ve had with the boy sitting next to him.

* * *

Keith yawned widely, as he flopped face down into bed, his limbs splayed dramatically. Perhaps he was spending too much time with Lance.

Lance chuckled and flopped down next to him. “Make room, bed hog.”

Keith felt his face quirk into a smile as he groaned and rolled over onto his side to accommodate Lance as he wiggled onto the pillows. How Lance managed to look as devastatingly handsome as he did in an old pair of grey joggers and a t-shirt that said ‘Bad Puns Are How Eye Roll,’ Keith will never know.

And why Keith was into that, was another mystery entirely.

“You know, I never thought I could be so tired by 9pm,” Keith said, pillowing his head with his arm. “The McClains sure know how to tire a guy out.”

Lance rolled his eyes good-naturedly, “Oh my god, tell me about it. Everytime I come home I need, like, a week after my visit to recover.”

Keith let out a chuckle, “I’m gonna need a week of hardcore cardio if I’m gonna recover from your mom’s cooking.”

Lance laughed and shuffled farther down into the covers, facing Keith. Their faces were only about 4 inches apart. “Her cooking has that effect.”

Keith hummed, finding himself distracted by the handsome curl of Lance’s lips and the adorable button of his nose. His skin was a beautiful caramel under the soft amber light from the bedside lamp, and his eyes were deep and blue. Keith had wanted to kiss Lance over a million times today, but now, in this moment, the urge was almost unbearable.

And so, Keith gave in.

He leaned in, and he closed his eyes, and he held his breath, and he—

Lance’s phone buzzed on the bedside table and startled them apart. Keith felt his face warm and had to look away; Lance couldn’t—wouldn’t—look away. His phone buzzed again, and again, and again.

“God, Lance, just answer your phone,” Keith sighed, rubbing the heels of his hands into the sockets of his eyes.

“It’s probably just Marco sending me a bunch of dumb memes,” Lance breathed, his eyes still burning holes into the side of Keith’s head.

“Just answer it,” Keith glanced at Lance and his eyes were so blue and so wide that Keith had to look away again. “You have to turn the lamp off anyway.”

Lance was silent for a few beats, and then the phone buzzed again and the sound was harsh and grating, reminding Keith of what he’d almost done. Lance jolted into action, rolling out of bed, away from Keith and towards his phone.

He opened the text and froze.

“What’s wrong?” Keith asked.

“Nothing,” Lance replied.

“Who text you?” Keith asked.

“No one,” Lance replied.

“Liar,” Keith said.

Lance glanced up, then back down to his phone. “Allura,” Lance said.

_ Allura _ , Lance said.

_ Allura _ .

Allura.

Keith swallowed down whatever emotion was balling up in his chest. The thick, sticky, angry feeling of it tacking up his throat like tar. He wanted to yell. He wanted to scream. He wanted to tear the room—no the world—apart. Keith wanted to shake himself and scream at himself:  _ What did you expect? _

From the beginning Keith knew that Allura was the one Lance wanted, and one weekend in upstate New York wasn’t going to change that.

Wasn’t going to change who he was really in love with.

_ Allura _ .

“Oh,” Keith said, his voice hollow and his chest tight. “Right, well,” Keith cleared his throat, “you better text back.”

“Keith,” Lance started, his voice filled with the same kindness, the same pity, the same  _ condescension _ that Shiro’s had, and maybe this wasn’t the same situation, but fuck, did it sure feel like it.

Keith rolled over, facing away from Lance, “It’s fine. Just turn off the light when you’re done. You’re not bothering me.”

“Keith,” he said again, and Keith wanted to throw up.

“Good night, Lance,” Keith closed his eyes against the heat behind them.

Lance was quiet for a long time, then he whispered, “Good night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :))))))))))))))))))
> 
> Karlee  
> [Personal Tumblr](https://sunscreams.tumblr.com)  
> [Voltron Tumblr](https://klancend.tumblr.com)
> 
> Dee  
> [Tumblr](https://vampingqueen.tumblr.com)  
> [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/deadkid_draws/?hl=en)


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very nice last day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, Karlee here. Just wanna say we're so sorry for the super delayed update. For some reason this chapter was just really hard to work though.
> 
> Thank you to our [beta](https://galaxygayrrison.tumblr.com) for cheering us on and getting the edits done so quickly.

Keith jolted awake at the sound of a knock at the door. Keith glanced up to the window; the sky was a soft violet with early morning light. 

“Boys, get up and get dressed,” Hector called through the door, startling Keith into a sitting position. Had Hector finally had enough? Was he going to kick them out? Was he sending them home? Was he finally tired of sharing the same air as a couple of sodomites?

Not that Keith and Lance had even...done  _ that  _ with each other.

Lance groaned and curled into the warm spot Keith had just vacated. “Keith, I can feel you overthinking up there. Come back to bed,” Lance’s arm groped around Keith’s waist. For a moment, Keith was going to lay back down. He was going to curl into Lance’s arms and allow himself this lazy morning. He was going to allow himself to believe, for even just this moment that he had this.

But then his eyes caught on Lance’s phone, and Keith remembered the night before. Keith remembered the way Lance froze as if he’d been caught cheating or something at Allura’s flurry of texts. It’s not like Lance owed Keith any sort of loyalty; it’s not like they were in a real committed relationship; it’s not like Lance was his.

It made Keith remember his place.

So, instead of lying back and curling close to Lance like he wanted, he rolled the rest of the way out of bed, his feet hitting the cold, hard ground with a resounding smack.

“No, Lance,” Keith sighed, “Your dad just asked us to get up.”

Lance groaned and rolled deeper into the blankets, pulling Keith’s pillow to his chest instead.

Keith sighed and began to get dressed.

* * *

When Keith reached the top of the stairs—Lance following extremely grudgingly behind him—he could hear voices coming from the kitchen. Keith rounded the corner into the kitchen and came face-to-face with Hector, Marco, Luis, and Nico all moving around the kitchen bleary-eyed in the search of breakfast and coffee.

“Hey, look who finally made it,” Marco teased as he placed a bowl of Cheerios in front of his son who was looking two seconds away from passing out. 

“Ha ha,” Lance deadpanned, “It’s truly, like, 6am. I deserve a little slack.”

Marco rolled his eyes and ruffled Nico’s hair.

“What’s going on?” Keith asked, feeling his eyebrows pull together as he began to bite on his lip-ring nervously.

Hector turned to him with a large smile—definitely the biggest one he’d seen out of him yet—and said, “We’re going fishing. McClain men tradition.”

And that did a funny thing to Keith’s chest. Keith turned to Lance, who had a sheepish smile on his face. “I’m—” Keith started, then looked back to Hector, “Am I invited?”

Hector blinked and his smile faltered, “Sure ya are, Keith.”

Fuck, that really did a funny thing to Keith’s chest. A ball of thick, heavy emotion swelled up his throat. He felt like he might cry. “I, um,” Keith cleared his throat, “I don’t know how to fish.”

Hector looked at Lance, a tentative smile on his face. Hector tapped the bottom of his coffee cup and looked back at Keith. “That’s alright. I’ll teach you.”

And that was too much for Keith. The heat behind his eyes swelled and he desperately tried to blink away the tears that were threatening to spill. Keith ducked his head and cleared his throat. “Okay,” he managed, “I, um, bathroom,” and then he hurried down the hallway.

As soon as Keith closed the door behind him, the tears began to fall. Silently, Keith sat on the closed lid of the toilet and let himself cry for a childhood—a father-son bonding experience—that his family couldn’t stay together for. Keith lived in the South his whole life and had not once held a fishing rod. He’d never gotten up at the asscrack of dawn to make it down to a lake cold enough for the fish to be swimming near the surface. He’d never stood on a dock, casting line after line, catching more weeds than fish. Keith had never spent hours in a boat on a lake in silence with his dad.

He never got that.

Now, here, over five hours away from the city where Keith had found his home, he was being offered that father-son experience he so wanted by a man who barely even liked him.

Keith was so overwhelmed.

“Keith?” A knock on the door. “Hey man, can I come in?” Lance’s voice floated through the door. 

And in that moment all Keith wanted was a hug. He wanted someone to wrap him up in their arms and help him wipe the tears from his eyes. So, Keith got up from the toilet seat and opened the door only to collapse into Lance’s arms.

“Hey,” Lance started, walking them backwards into the bathroom, closing the door softly behind them. “Hey, what’s up?”

“I never—” Keith cut himself off with a sniffle. “Your dad—”

“Hey,” Lance soothed a hand across Keith’s back. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“I’m just so thankful, Lance,” Keith mumbled into Lance’s shirt.

Lance didn’t say anything for a few beats, just rubbed Keith’s back, slowly rocking them side-to-side. Finally, Lance said, “I’m thankful too, you know.”

“What?” Keith’s tears began to dry and he felt the salty tracks crack as he looked up at Lance.

“Maybe it doesn’t seem like a big deal, but, Keith…” Lance ducked his head into Keith’s hair, pressing a smile into Keith’s scalp. “He’s trying and that means everything to me.”

Keith pressed his forehead into Lance’s collarbone. He smelled like toothpaste and sandalwood; a combination that shouldn’t smell as nice as Keith thought it did.

Keith breathed out a laugh, “I’ve never been fishing before, Lance. What if I’m a lost cause.”

“Please,” Keith could hear Lance’s eyeroll. “You’re naturally good at everything. Fishing will be no exception.”

Keith scoffed.

“Plus, if my Papá taught me  _ and _ Marco, I’m pretty sure he could get anyone to fish,” Lance squeezed Keith’s sides, both teasing and reassuring.

Keith looked back up at Lance. “Do I look like I’ve been crying?”

Lance’s smile was devastatingly handsome when he said, “Only a little bit.”

Keith had never wanted to kiss him more.

* * *

The boat was not large enough for five grown men and a child, and yet, somehow, they all piled into the old fishing boat and it didn’t spontaneously flip.

“Okay, I only have three rods, so we’ll have to share,” Hector said, a smile on his face as he handed one rod to Marco, and then another to Lance. Keith felt himself relax a little, thinking Lance would be the one to teach him how to fish, of all things.

“Luis share with your brother,” Hector said and then turned his eyes to Keith. “Keith, I’ll teach you the basics.”

Keith’s heart lodged itself in his throat. He glanced at Lance who was sending him an encouraging smile. Keith steadied himself with a quick breath then nodded, “Okay.”

Keith switched spots with Luis, as carefully as he could, terrified that he would be the one to flip the boat into the water. Once Keith was settled, Hector began teaching.

Turned out, fishing was super easy, and once Keith got the hang of it, he was casting, catching, and releasing like no one’s business.

“So, Keith,” Hector started after a long bout of silence. He cleared his throat a little awkwardly. “Where’re you from?”

Keith cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter. “Texas, Sir,” the honorific slipping out accidentally.

Hector gave a little, good-natured laugh. “Texas, hey?” He hummed, “That must’ve been hard.”

Keith raised an eyebrow and felt his lips quirk up. “Um, yeah, I guess.” Keith looked back at the water, casting another line and then reeling it in. “Texas isn’t really easy for anybody who doesn’t fit the All-American image.”

Hector hummed again. “It seems like that’s how it is in a lot of places these days.”

Keith hummed back. This was so awkward. Did Lance’s dad want to talk politics with  _ Keith _ ? Was that what was happening? And if it was, why was he asking  _ Keith _ ? Keith knew nothing about politics.

“So, um, what do you do?” Hector tried at conversation again.

“I work at a coffee shop, Sir,” Keith took the weeds off his hook, then cast again.

“Alright, what do you do for fun, then?” Hector really was giving this the old college try.

“Um,” Keith tried to focus on the Lance before him. Keith couldn’t exactly say he smoked weed and watched conspiracy documentaries to Lance’s dad, so he went with, “I built my own motorcycle, so I guess I spend a lot of time making sure it’s still in good shape.”

“Wait, you built that thing?” Lance exclaimed, because of course everyone had been able to hear the horribly awkward conversation that him and Hector were trying to get through.

Keith cleared his throat. “Yeah, I built it,” Keith pulled the weeds off his hook before carefully handing the rod to Hector.

“You’ve seen it?” Hector asked Lance.

“Seen it?” Lance scoffed, “Keith took me on a spin.”

Both of Hector’s eyebrows rose, “He did, did he?” He turned to Keith. “Did you stay within the speed limit?”

“Yes,” Keith said at the exact same time Lance said, “No.”

Keith’s head whipped around to glare at him. “Lance!”

Hector just laughed, “Atta boy,” and slapped a large hand onto Keith’s back, almost making him fall into the lake. “What model is it?”

Keith shrugged, “I was working in a scrapyard a few years back and, I don’t know how much you know about bikes, but I found this rusted up Ducati 900 Supersport, just lying there. So, I asked my boss if I could take it, found an old Harley motor for cheap, and then fixed it up until it ran.”

“You don’t say,” Hector hummed, a glint in his eye. “I just so happen to have a Honda CB750 in the garage back home. It’s blue and everything.”

“No way,” Keith leaned back. That was a classic bike! Worth more than Keith’s life was worth!

“Yes way, bought it pretty beat up in the 80’s and restored it myself,” Hector’s mouth quirked up. “I could show you if you’d like.”

Keith sputtered a bit. “I’d really like that, Sir.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Keith could see Lance beaming.

* * *

The scent of fried fish wafted in the air. Hector had an apron tied around his waist, the words ‘kiss the cook’ printed on it and his hair was kept out of his face with Dani’s hair clips. Keith had to stifle his laughter every time he caught a glimpse of the man. Keith isn’t too proud to admit that a few snickers escaped from his lips. Hector gave Keith a raised brow every time Keith couldn’t contain himself. Keith would have been in a panic if it weren’t for the fact that the corners of Hector’s lips were quirked into a small smile.

At least Keith knew where Lance got his fashion-sense from.

Keith was on french-fry duty with Lance. This was definitely a one-person job, but if Keith’s first night here was any indication of how willing Elena was to let guests do any sort of work, he guessed he was lucky even being allowed to do this.

So, Keith was slicing potatoes as Lance put them into the boiling hot oil.

Lance bumped their shoulders together. “Papá seems to like you,” Lance commented, nodding in his dad’s direction.

Keith hummed, pressing down on the happy feeling bubbling up in his chest. “I guess so.”

“He does!” Lance exclaimed, his smile growing. “Don’t try to deny it. He smiles at you a lot.”

“He smiles at  _ us _ a lot,” Keith said, ducking his head down to hide his grin.

Lance paused then glanced at his father, catching the look his father gave him. Hector gave him a half-smile, one that looked a lot like Lance’s, and shook his head, amused at their antics. He gave them a small wave.

Lance looked back at Keith, a huge grin on his face. “He totally likes you.”

Keith opened his mouth to retort, but before he could, Lance ruffled his hair.

Keith squawked, “Hey!” and swatted at Lance’s hand. “What was that for?”

“There was a twig or something,” Lance said, smiling down at Keith with his familiar pearly grin.

“Sure,” Keith deadpanned, but his heart decided to skip a beat or two. No biggie.

Eventually, Elena made her way over, shooing the boys away from the fries, telling them they were taking longer to prep them together then it takes by herself. They made their way to a pair of abandoned lawn chairs.

“You want a soda or something?” Lance asked.

“Sure,” Keith responded.

“Cool,” Lance rocked on his heels, a smile on his face. “Okay, you stay here and I’ll...do that.”

“Get me a soda?” Keith cocked an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Lance shrugged, his smile still on his face. “I’ll get  _ us _ a soda.”

“We have to share?” Keith teased.

Lance sputtered. “No—I mean—no!” Lance huffed, “I meant I was gonna bet both of us a separate soda.”

“Good,” Keith’s eyes twinkled, “You’ve got cooties anyway.”

Lance gasped dramatically. “I do not have cooties! Who told you that?”

“Dani,” Keith shrugged, “She’s right though. I can see it on you.”

“Unbelievable,” Lance huffed. “Disowned.”

Keith huffed out a little laugh, blinded by the glow of Lance’s skin, and his smile, and his eyes. “Go get me a soda, McLame.”

“Okay,” Lance said, his smile holding as he walked backwards. Lance tripped over a toy laying on the ground, but his smile was still in place when he popped back up. Keith shook his head and sunk into his lawn chair.

However, fifteen minutes later, when Lance still hadn’t returned, Keith was very much not sitting relaxed in his lawn chair. He was reclined awkwardly in his seat, his back feeling as stiff as a board as he waited.

Fifteen minutes of pure agony without him. Who even took fifteen minutes to get a soda? Fucking Lance apparently. What was he even doing? Keith didn’t know, but he could feel his anxiety rising the longer Lance took.

Keith took a deep breath and shut his eyes behind his sunglasses. If his eyes were closed, he couldn’t see that the seat next to him was empty. He could pretend that Lance was next to him, and not somewhere else, leaving him vulnerable to solo conversation with his family.

Yeah, Lance was sitting next to him. He was just being very still and wasn’t making any noise at all.

Yeah, okay, that’s not believable.

Keith was shaken out of his musings by someone plopping down into the empty seat next to him. Keith snapped his eyes open and whipped his head to the side to find a very tired-looking Marco McClain.

Oh God, this is exactly what Keith had feared.

He was doomed.

“Mind if I sit here for a bit?” Marco asked.

“Lance was sitting here, but he disappeared off to who knows where,” Keith said. Marco still looked at him, waiting for approval. “Sure, I don’t mind.”

“Great,” Marco said, slumping into the chair as if all his bones had turned into jelly. He closed his eyes.

Keith took this time to really look at Marco. His hair was darker than Lance’s, nearly black, and his brows were much thicker. His features were less angular and more bulky, but he couldn’t deny that there were similarities between the two. The long lashes, the same nose, thin lips, and the freckles that dusted across their faces. Marco really just looked a lot like Lance in some ways. And Keith immediately thought of Lance, much, much older with a baby on his hip, smiling at Keith warmly.

“Not going to lie, Keith, Cora told me I should come over here and give you a shovel talk, but I’m not really the shovel talk kind of guy.” Marco pulled himself into a sitting position.

Keith sighed. “Don’t worry, I’ve gotten two from Veronica.”

“Oh, well, that makes things so much easier then,” Marco said, relaxing back into his chair. He paused then sat back up. “Wait, did you say you got two shovel talks this weekend from Veronica?”

“Yeah,” Keith said.

“I’m a little surprised you’re alive.”

Keith snorted a laugh, “Yeah, me too.”

Marco laughed back. “In my opinion, just be glad Rachel wasn’t the one who did it. She may be tiny, but she’s got a lot to say.”

They both shared a laugh at that one.

In the distance, Keith finally spotted Lance. He was being yanked by the ear by Rachel who seemed to saying something in rapid-fire Spanish. He grabbed a pair of tongs and began defending himself from the clutches of his younger sibling with his pseudo-sword.

Keith laughed some more.  _ This boy… _

“He’s such a doofus,” Keith said, staring at Lance fondly.

Marco smiled at Keith when he saw where his gaze lingered. “Lance has always been a doofus.” Marco let out a snort. “When we were kids, he learned the whole Hannah Montana opening and created his own choreography and everything. He made us watch him perform it like a concert. I’m pretty sure we have a tape of it somewhere. It’s so hilarious.”

“That’s not hard to believe, trust me,” Keith says, shaking his head. “You have to send me that sometime. Quality blackmail material.”

In the distance, they could hear the sound of Lance squawking dramatically as Rachel—who had somehow gotten control of the tongs—smacked him with the them.

Keith turned to Marco, giving him a wry smile. “Honestly, I’m not even surprised that he did that. He’d do that now.”

That pulled another laugh out of Marco.

“Do you think he’d do it again if I asked him to?” Keith asked, watching Lance break free from the clutches of his sister, a scream following him as he dashed across the lawn.

“Keith,” Marco’s voice was a weird mix of amused and serious, “I’m pretty sure he’d do anything if you asked.”

Keith looked across the yard at Lance and knew that he would do the same.

* * *

A few hours later, at the extreme insistence of the twins, the group headed down to the beach to cool off, laughing, and joking, and jeering at each other as they went. Keith knew everyone was feeling a little sweaty— he could even see the sheen of it on Lance’s skin. See the way it made his golden skin shine almost like glitter.

Lance was gorgeous. A sight to behold, and somehow, Keith was given a front row seat.

Keith found himself a nice spot on the small, private lakefront beach. He placed down his towel and, for a few moments, just watched. He watched the kids run, screaming into the lake. He watched Marco and Lance chase after them, splashing and laughing. He watched Lisa, Cora, and Luis set up a row of chairs not too far away from Keith. He watched Hector and Elena walk hand-in-hand down the beach, their shoes dangling in their hands, as they stole a moment of time to themselves.

Keith watched the grey-blue waves of the lake lap at the grey-sand shore, watched the sun slint off the waves.

It was peaceful. So Keith closed his eyes, tilted his face up to the sun, and basked.

He was interrupted by someone plopping into the sand next to him, and was very pleased to see that it was Lance. A shirtless Lance, glistening with water, and dusted with sand. He’d stretched out both arms and legs to look like a boy-starfish, the grin on his face growing slowly into a broad smile the only indicator that he wasn’t sleeping. Keith had seen him do this a lot—plopping down on any surface without any hesitation. Today it seemed, Lance would be having an impromptu nap on the beach.

Keith’s mouth quirked up into a smile and he swiped some of the sand off of Lance’s face.

Lance’s lips twitched, “What’re you doing?”

“Nothing,” Keith remarked. “You have sand all over you.”

“This is a beach, Keith,” Lance deadpanned, his broad smile taking away from the effect slightly. “Everything is made of sand.”

“Yes,” Keith said, “And you’ve still somehow managed to get it all over yourself.”

Lance just hummed, going back to his afternoon nap. Keith looked on fondly, smoothing back Lance’s hair one last time before leaning on the arm closes to Lance to go back to his basking. The only marker of time passing was the sun above Keith’s head, golden and lazy in its movement.

The rest of Lance’s family were playing in the water and chatting not too far away from where Lance and Keith were. Keith closed his eyes again and just listened to the laughter coming in short bursts and rolling like water against the percussions of the waves.

Keith only opened his eyes when he heard some of the high pitched, childlike laughter draw nearer. Nico and Dani were rushing up the shore, racing each other toward where Lance and Keith were relaxing.

The twins skidded to a stop, sand spraying everywhere as they collapsed next to Lance, their panting breaths interspersed with giggles. Lance was awake. Keith could see it in the way his face twitched when he was pelted with sand, but he acted no more alive than a sack of potatoes—waiting silently like a cobra.

“Is Tío Lance okay?” Dani asked, patting Lance on the chest a few times.

Nico poked his arm. “Maybe he’s dead.”

“Nico, why do you always assume someone is dead when they’re not moving?” Keith asked.

“Hamsters,” Nico said darkly.

“We don’t talk about the hamsters, Nico,” Dani harshly whispered.

“Okay,” Keith said, raising his brows and decided some things were best left unexplained. He looked towards Lance, who gave him a sly wink.

The twins got right up close to Lance’s face, two pairs of blue eyes staring owlishly at their immobilized uncle.

“Is he still breathing?” Nico asked, inspecting closer and experimentally poking Lance in the cheek a few times. Keith can see Lance is now visibly trying to hold back his laughter. “Maybe he ate too much french fries…” Nice mumbled thoughtfully.

“That’s a good guess, Nico,” Keith said, leaning his head onto his shoulder and smiling down at the group’s antics. “What do you think, Dani?”

“He’s sleeping like Sleeping Beauty!” Dani burst out, a twinkle in her eye as she side eyed Lance. “But Tío Lance isn’t a beauty.”

That was all it took for Lance to jump up, gathering the kids in his arms and letting out a roar without shame—not the timid little declaration of an adult playing “let’s pretend,” but the lung-emptying cry of a prehistoric warrior. Grains of sand were scattered in arcs, little giggles and shrieks escaping as they wrestled.

Keith laughed as he watched, a blossom of that same deep fondness Keith had been feeling for some time now unfurling in his chest.

Lance was handsome. He was handsome because of his bronze skin, and his sharp jaw, and his upturned nose. He was handsome because of his charming brown curls, and his perfect white smile, and his deliciously broad shoulders. He was handsome because of the way he played with the kids, and the way he helped his mother with little-to-no complaint, and the way he smiled at Keith.

Lance was handsome.

* * *

The sun was turning the sky orange over the treelines of the McClain Cabin when Elena approached Keith a coiled bundle of outdoor fairy lights in her arms.

“Keith, honey, can you help me with these?” Elena asked. “They go around the trees over there, but I’m just not tall enough to reach the top.”

“Yeah, sure, Elena,” Keith holds out his hands for the lights, “You point, and I’ll hang.” Elena drops the bundle into Keith’s waiting palms with a soft warm smile.

“You’re so sweet,” she tuts. “Okay, come with me.”

They make their way over to the trees indicated by Elena. They chat idly for a while, Keith hanging fairy lights as Elena tells stories of her kids in their childhoods. It was nice. And Keith found himself wishing he could have this forever. To never have to give this family up.

To never have to give Lance up.

While Keith and Elena were setting up the lights, someone managed to get a campfire going to battle the rapidly cooling evening air. Lance was sitting by the fire with the kids, tuning a guitar. Keith didn’t know Lance could play.

For some reason the fact that Lance knew how to play the guitar made him almost a million times more attractive. 

_ “Don’t you ever fret when everything goes dark,” _ Lance sang, _ “For in the dark, we can lay down and see the stars.” _

And his singing? Wow.

_ “My love, In your embrace, I finally found a place to call my home,” _ Lance continued, strumming the guitar gently.  _ “Just stay with me, I promise you will never be alone.” _

Keith stared at Lance, his breath catching in his throat. His voice was so smooth and the guitar was so sweet; Keith felt a little bit like a goner.

_ “A world where we’re going to start, where nothing could tear us apart / My love, someday you will see, you are the whole world to me.”  _ Lance’s eyes fluttered up from his guitar and landed on Keith. Something flickered in those blue orbs as his mouth twitched a little.

_ “These words that we’re saying, where will they go / If you leave, I hope you won’t.”  _ Lance held Keith’s gaze. Something warm and heavy rose up in Keith throat. Keith swallowed around it.

_ “Just hold on tight, don’t break away / My love, you are now my home and world.”  _ Keith felt like Lance was staring into Keith’s soul: seeing Keith plainly and clearly for, perhaps, the very first time.

_ “When you come back, I’ll be staying in your arms / staying in your warmth / Along with every move, we won’t get lost anymore / Let’s forget about the world so we can be together, mi amor.”  _ Lance’s eyes slipped closed, his eyebrows furrowing as he sang, and Keith couldn’t stop his heart from skipping even if he tried. Keith clenched his fists.

_ “My world will become yours.”  _ Lance opened his eyes, his blue clashing with Keith’s grey. For a single moment, it seemed almost like Lance was serenading him, and Keith’s heart ached for that. Ached for the timeline where Lance sang for Keith, where Lance wasn’t chasing after Allura, where Lance loved Keith.

The illusion was shattered as Lance looked away, continuing the song to the rest of his family. Keith’s heart clenched in his chest as his stomach dropped. He looked away from Lance, sniffed a little, and went back to hanging twinkle lights.

Lance wasn’t serenading him and he never would. That was not something for Keith, and Lance wasn’t something for Keith, and Keith should stop kidding himself.

Keith should remember Allura, and her pretty hair, and her pretty eyes, and her pretty clothes. Keith should remember the way Lance spoke about her. Keith should remember the way Lance rambled for hours about her.

Keith should remember that all of this is fake, and in the end Keith wasn’t the one Lance wanted.

Wouldn’t ever be.

* * *

Hector stood from where he was sitting at the head of the table, tapping a butter knife onto the side of his beer can. Elena stood up next to him, a large smile on her face as she held her own solo cup of wine. “Before we begin this meal, Elena and I would like to say a few words,” Hector wrapped an arm around his wife, a deep and fond smile warming his face.

“Awe, c’mon guys, you do this every year and it’s always ridiculously sappy,” Rachel complained, sinking down on the bench slightly. “Lance is going to cry, and Luis probably will too but he’ll pretend he’s not and it’s gonna be super sappy and gross.”

“Hey,” Luis and Lance both said at the same time, both equally as indignant.

“Guys, let Mamá y Papá talk, God,” Marco shot back.

Hector and Elena shared an amused look. “Thank you, Marco,” Hector said, looking back at the table.

“Suck up,” Veronica coughed into her fist, Elena shot her a less amused look and the table quieted.

“As I was saying,” Hector said, shooting each of them a look. “We would like to thank everyone for coming, for giving time for family. Let’s be grateful to those people who make us happy. We’ve learned a lot today, even if just a little,” Hector stopped here to allow the table to chuckle.  

“We’ve learned to appreciate one’s company, to respect each other, to see each other as equals, and to love unconditionally,” Hector looked around the table as he said this, his eyes landing warmly on Lance and Keith.

“I’ve learned a lot today as well,” Hector said, turning his gaze back to the rest of the family. “I’ve learned to give chances to people, to see past my own judgement, and to appreciate what I have.” Hector’s gaze landed back on Lance, his face soft and endlessly kind.

To Keith’s left, he heard sniffling and was surprised to see Lance was already crying. Keith curled his hand into a fist on his thigh, desperately wanting to reach out and comfort him. Lance sniffed again, this time discreetly wiping a tear, and Keith couldn’t handle it. He reached over and threaded his fingers though Lance’s, sending him a soft, encouraging smile.

Elena piped up, squeezing her husband’s side. “I’ve learned to accept more people into my heart,” Elena met Keith’s eyes, a kind smile warming his heart. “And to make room for some more,” Elena smiled at Cora who smiled widely and rubbed her swollen belly.

“I’d like to thank Keith,” Hector started, which surprised Keith. He wasn’t expecting Hector to address him. “For making this happen.”

Keith sputtered. “W-What?”

“You brought our Leandro home,” Hector said simply, and Keith felt like the world was upside down. Lance squeezed his hand in support, his tears still flowing. “We may have our differences, and I may not fully understand, but I am thankful that you brought him back to us happier than ever,” Hector continued.

“Papá,” Lance whispered, “I…”

Hector raised a hand, stopping him from saying any more. “You make our family complete, boys. There will always be seats at this table for the two of you, for however long you want them.”

Keith didn’t know what to say. His heart was beating a mile a minute, and he felt a dangerous heat behind his eyes. Keith swallowed thickly. He’d never in his life, that he could remember, had a place where he was always welcome. Shiro always said that if anything ever happened, there was a place on his couch for Keith. And that was something that Keith had cherished; something dangerous and amazing given to him by a friend.

But this. This was bigger than that. This felt like a place where he could call home. A place where he could grow into something bigger than himself; someone better and more responsible. Somewhere he’d always find love. And not just any love; it would be love for him. Love for Keith, from people who wanted to give it to him.

This sounded like long summer nights spent laughing and drinking by a fire. This sounded like waking up early, before the sun has fully risen to catch fish in silence in a boat way too small for 6 people. This sounded like kids running, and laughing, and growing. This sounded like every dream Keith had dreamt when he was a kid.

And that was dangerous.

Somehow, Keith managed a very weak, very awkward, “Thank you.”

The whole family laughed and Keith ducked his head, embarrassed and incredibly vulnerable.

“Guys, guys, don’t laugh at Keith,” Lance said, draping an arm over his shoulder, a soft smile on his face. “That’s my job.”

Keith’s heart warmed and he scoffed. “Oh, piss off,” Keith shoved Lance lightly back into his seat. All eyes were off Keith as the family laughed once again. A weight was lifted off Keith’s shoulders, and Lance was smiling at him in a way that made his heart melt.

“To Keith!” Elena said, winking at him.

“To Keith,” everyone cheered. Beer cans clinked, people laughed, and although Keith was extremely embarrassed, he still smiled.

* * *

The sun had set over an hour ago, the sky dark, but the clearing of the McClain Cabin was bathed in the soft yellow glow of the campfire and the fairy lights. Music could be heard, playing softly from somewhere. It was quiet enough to allow for conversation, but loud enough to sway to. Marco and Cora were wrapped up in each other a few paces away, swaying in a slow circle, giggling about something every few minutes. Hector held Elena in a classic ballroom hold, and they couldn’t keep their eyes off of each other, their smiles soft and fond. Luis and Lisa were curled up together on a camp chair in front of the fire, and the kids were passed out in their own chairs, blankets thrown over their sleeping forms.

Keith felt his chest warm, his heart growing three sizes that day as he gazed out at the happy people in front of him. The only thing that was missing was—

Lance stepped into Keith’s line of sight, and everything was perfect.

“Dance with me,” Lance’s voice was barely a whisper, and his hand was a soft caramel in front of Keith’s face.

Keith glanced up at Lance’s face—at his wide smile and his glittering eyes—and took Lance’s hand, allowing himself to be pulled onto his feet and into the grass clearing.

“I don’t know how to dance,” Keith whispered, afraid to break the spell.

“That’s okay,” Lance’s smile melted Keith’s heart. “Just follow my lead.”

And so Keith did. He allowed himself to be wrapped up in Lance’s arms, winding his own around Lance’s neck. He allowed himself to be swayed along to the music. And as he stared into Lance’s blue eyes, so soft under the amber light of the fairy lights, he allowed himself to believe that this was real. 

And he never wanted to stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7ZpNxzy17Hc) is the song Lance sings.
> 
> Just to let y'all know, we probably won't update until next friday (Dec 14). I have a bunch of exams (and seasonal depression), so I'm deffo gonna be having trouble writing. Thank you guys so much for your patience and encouragement! it truly means a lot to us. 
> 
> Karlee:  
> [Personal Tumblr](https://sunscreams.tumblr.com)  
> [Voltron Tumblr](https://klancend.tumblr.com)
> 
> Dee:  
> [Tumblr](https://vampingqueen.tumblr.com)  
> [Instagram](https://https://www.instagram.com/deadkid_draws/)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memorial Day long weekend comes to an end and Keith has a few conversations that were a long time coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, yeah this took a million years and we're sorry, but! this chapter is 7,000 words so I'd say that's not bad for an update. thank you for your patience and please continue to be patient. we are both very busy,,, ,, tfw life just,, , ,,kills ya,, , ,,
> 
> please send love and affection to our beta, [Jocc](https://galaxy-gayrrison.tumblr.com), who got this chapter edited in record time. we love her.

That last morning was quiet and the air was still. The silence was comfortable, albeit morose. Keith watched the downward slope of Lance’s shoulders as he packed, folding shirt after shirt. Keith felt his lips quirk into a smile and paused where he was packing his duffle bag.

“Hey Lance?” Keith called.

Lance hummed, not turning around.

Keith’s smile grew a little bit more. “Thanks for bringing me out here.” Keith cut his eyes away and rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “I think this has been one of the best weekends of my life.” Keith felt shy for saying it, ducking his head to hide the warm flush settling on his cheeks.

Lance turned around with a chuckle, his smile warm and small. “Even though you had to pretend date me the whole time and couldn’t even watch a single conspiracy theory documentary?”

Keith rolled his eyes, but couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “Yes, even because of that.”

Lance chuckled, the sound of it so sweet in the morning air. Lance stepped into a spot of golden light being let in from the basement window, making his skin glow and his hair light up like a halo around his head. He sighed, and his smile dropped a little into something a little sadder.

“I don’t want to leave,” Lance muttered, almost shyly, into the space between them.

Keith gulped, the words he’s been hearing in his own head voiced aloud. “I don’t blame you,” he muttered back.

Lance sighed, his smile fading into something that spoke of camaraderie. “I _really_ don’t want to leave.”

“Yeah,” Keith agreed, letting out a breath. “But we have to go.”

“We can come back next year,” Lance said, a hopeful smile blooming over his face.

And that made the butterflies that had basically been fluttering in Keith’s stomach for the last week erupt into something a little more violent. The idea of returning was something that made a dangerous hope grow deep within his chest

The fact that Lance wanted the both of them to come back made something click inside of Keith’s chest. Lance had said _we_ . He used the plural. He meant Lance _and_ Keith.

Keith swallowed and desperately tried not to let his smile grow too wide.

 

* * *

 

The entire family was in the front yard. The twins were playing some sort of tag that Keith couldn’t quite comprehend while the adults moved around, packing cars and milking the last few hours of the weekend together. The sun shone high in the clear blue sky. It was a beautiful morning and Keith selfishly didn’t want to leave.

There was just something about the way they all smiled, and laughed, and joked with each other that made Keith’s heart ache in the best way possible. He wanted to bask in this family’s glow. He wanted to memorize each expression, each word, and each joke, so that next Memorial Day, when he was isolated in his apartment watching conspiracy documentaries again, he might not feel so alone.

Keith dropped his bag into the back of Lance’s car, an absent-minded smile on his face as he watched Lance’s family move. It was only when Keith’s eyes landed on Lance that his smile bloomed into something larger—something unable to be contained.

Lance was walking out of the cottage with Rachel, both of them talking adamantly with each other as they walked. Lance had his bag thrown over his shoulder, one of his hands holding the strap lightly, looking completely casual and also somehow completely breathtaking. There was just something about the way that sunlight hit Lance’s skin that made Keith’s insides turn to warm goo. It was only when the pair was halfway across the yard that Keith realized they were walking towards him.

Keith turned away from them, hiding his blush by fiddling with his bag as he did.

“And they were roommates!” Rachel exclaimed.

“Oh my god, they were roommates,” Lance gasped.

“Anyway, I’m glad Ronnie finally found someone. Even if we’ll probably never meet her,” Rachel finished.

Keith saw Lance pout out of the corner of his eye. “That sucks,” Lance said, “I wanna meet Veronica’s cute gf.”

“Veronica has a girlfriend?” Keith asked as he turned around. Keith consciously kept his voice down, keeping his eyes peeled to make sure no one accidentally overheard him. Keith watched Rachel disappear out the corner of his eye as Marco called her name.

Lance’s smile was almost blinding as he turned to Keith. “Yeah,” Lance was giddy. “She met someone at college, I guess, and she wants to keep it pretty hush hush because it’s still pretty new.”

“That’s awesome,” Keith smiled and allowed himself to be reeled in by Lance’s sneaky arm around his waist. “I’m really happy for her.”

“Me too,” Lance smiled down at Keith. After a beat, his smile melted, “I just wish she would tell Mamá and Papá.”

Keith’s brows furrowed, “I know.” He smiled sadly up at Lance. “Maybe this—me being here—will make things better.”

Lance smiled sadly back, “I hope so, Keith.”

Lance tucked a lock of hair behind Keith’s ear, his hand lingering on Keith’s jaw. Lance smiled down at Keith, his face soft. Lance looked so good in the late morning light and his eyes shining only for Keith. Keith was wrapped up in Lance’s arms and Keith could have bet any money that Lance was going to kiss him.

And maybe Lance would have if Hector hadn’t approached and cleared his throat, separating the pair in an instant.

“Oh, um, papá,” Lance chuckled nervously. Keith’s face felt so hot, he was almost sure he would burst into flames any second. “Didn’t see you coming.”

Hector chuckled a little nervously himself as he rubbed the back of his neck. “No I, um, I didn’t think you would…” he trailed off a little awkwardly. He cleared his throat after an uncomfortable silence. “Anyway, I was wondering if I could talk to you for a second, Son?”

Lance’s posture straightened a little, his eyes widening, “Um,” he glanced at Keith then back to his dad, “yeah.” Keith sent Lance a supportive smile and a little thumbs up.

Keith immediately felt like an idiot.

Lance and his dad didn’t walk too far away, so Keith pulled out his phone to at least look like he wasn’t eavesdropping.

“Leandro, you know I love you right?” Hector started.

“Papá, that’s not really an awesome way to start an emotional talk,” Lance joked shakily.

Hector sighed and rubbed his temples. “ _Estoy arruinando esto_ ,” he let his arms fall to his sides. “Look, Son, I never—” he cut himself off again. “I’ll be honest with you, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to understand the—” he sputtered for a second, “—bisexual thing.”

“Papá—” Lance started, his eyebrows furrowing and his arms coming up to stop him.

“No, Lance, let me say this,” Hector waved his arms back.

Lance relaxed back onto his heels with a sigh as he crossed his arms and gave his dad a wave to continue.

Hector took a breath and started again, “I don’t think I can understand it. You’ve always been a little bit of a strange kid, but I’ve always loved you. I do love you.” Hector smiled and placed a hand on Lance’s shoulder. “You’re my _son_ , Lance, and that won’t ever change, no matter who you love.”

“Papá,” Lance said, his posture melting and his eyes misting a little.

“I can’t understand it, and I haven’t always understood you, but I’m going to try, because you’re my son and I love you,” Hector finished. It was barely a second after the last words had left Hector’s lips that Lance was pitching forward into a hug, burying his face in his father’s neck as his shoulders shook lightly.

Keith would be lying is he said he didn’t wipe a tear at the scene.

“You’re a good kid, Leandro,” Hector mumbled into Lance’s hair. “And I wouldn’t trade you for the world.”

“I don’t know if you’d be able to get that much for me anyway, papá,” Lance mumbled against Hector.

“Nah,” Hector smiled down at his son, “I don’t think I’d ever be able to get enough.”

Lance laughed a little and pulled out of the hug, surreptitiously wiping tears away. He looked back up at his dad. “Papá, I don’t care if you understand me or my bisexual thing,” Lance laughed a little, “All I need is for you to try.”

“And I am, mijo,” Hector said, putting a hand on Lance’s shoulders. He squeezed. “I’m trying my best.”

“That’s all I ask, papá,” Lance said, beaming like a thousand suns and more.

 

* * *

  

“Okay, don’t mean to sound lame or anything, but Keith and I have to leave now because we have a literal five hour drive home,” Lance announced as he stood up from where he and the rest of his family was sitting around on the porch.

Rachel started booing, the rest of the siblings and even the twins joined in, giggles interrupting the noise in the best way possible.

“Y’all can boo Keith, he’s the one that has to work tomorrow,” Lance said with a shrug.

“ _Y’all_ ,” Rachel repeated, her eyes squinted as she looked into the middle distance as if she was trying to figure out an impossible math question.

Keith rolled his lips to stop himself from laughing.

“See Leandro, now there’s a responsible boy,” Hector said, his voice firm, but his smile light. “You should take a page out of Keith’s book.”

“Oh come on, he literally told me he’d skip work tomorrow if we got back later than ten tonight!” Lance exclaimed, and Keith snorted. “I’m being the responsible one making sure we got home before the cutoff.”

“Keith would never say something like that, Lance. Stop trying to make your boyfriend look bad like that,” Elena chastised teasingly.

“Unbelievable! My own family roasting me like this,” Lance cried, the smile on his face giving his true feelings away.

“Awe, Lance, you love the roasts,” Marco laughed.

“Yeah, because he’s a total masochist,” Luis added, elbowing Veronica. The entire crowd laughed, Elena telling Luis to apologize even though there was a smile on her face.

“Okay, okay, but for real, we have to get going,” Lance said over the crowd after a few beats. He was smiling—wide and happy—but there was a twinge of sadness in his eyes and a slight droop to his shoulders, and Keith knew he didn’t want to go back to the city. Because _this_ was his home. 

“Bring it in, _hermanito_ ,” Veronica said, a crooked smile on her face, “And at least try to keep the waterworks to a minimum.”

Lance laughed—admittedly a little wetly—and walked into the waiting arms of his family. Keith watched from the path, a smile on his face as he watched Elena wipe the tears off his face as she spoke to him in quent Spanish. He watched Hector pull Lance into a very solid hug. He watched as Marco bro-hugged him, Luis jumping onto Lance’s back a second later with a loud laugh. He watched Rachel flick Lance in the forehead before Lance grabbed her for a wicked noogie. Keith watched Lance elbow Veronica until she punched him in the shoulder and pulled him into a very violent hug.

It warmed Keith to watch a family so wholesome and loving. Keith was so caught up in watching Lance interact with his siblings that he jumped a little when Elena placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Oh, sorry, Keith,” Elena laughed as he startled.

“No, that’s okay,” Keith turned to face her as he rubbed the back of his neck. “What’s up, Elena?”

“I wanted to give you a hug, _mijo_ ,” Elena laughed. “I know you’re not fond of crowds, so I came to you.”

“Oh,” Keith dropped his arm, his eyebrows flying to his hairline. “Thanks, Elena.”

“No problem, _mijo_ ,” Elena laughed as she opened her arms and pulled Keith into a hug. Keith stiffened for a second before he brought his own arms up and around her, letting himself have a mother’s hug for the first time.

After a few beats, Elena pulled away, holding Keith at arms length by his biceps. “Keith, I know this weekend might seem like a lot. _We_ are a lot,” she laughed, “But I want you to know, _mijo_ , that you can come back here whenever you like. Our door is always open.”

Keith smiled, a wave of something warm, and bright, and way too much welling up inside of him. Tears pooled in his eyes and Keith swiped at them before any could fall. Keith sniffed lightly before he pulled Elena into another hug.

“Thank you,” he mumbled into her hair.

She laughed and patted his back, “You are more than welcome, _mijo_.” Keith pulled away and Elena wiped away some of the stray tears that escaped during the hug. “You are so kind to my son, it’s the least I can do.”

Guilt stabbed through Keith, dropping his heart into his stomach. His face twitched, but he somehow managed to keep his smile pinned. “Of course,” Keith said, because no matter what Keith wanted to be good to Lance...he just might not want Keith to be kind to him in the way Elena was implying. The way Keith so desperately wanted to be to Lance.

A throat cleared behind them, and when Keith turned to was so see Hector standing a little awkwardly to the side. Keith was both immensely grateful for the interruption and extremely nervous as to what Hector wanted from him.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Hector smiled at Elena, his blue eyes sparkling in a way so similar to Lance’s. “Can I speak to Keith for a moment?”

Elena’s smile softened for a moment before it turned a little bit sly, “Of course, _mi amor_.” She pressed a kiss onto Hector’s cheek as she passed, before turning to Keith and sending him a quick wink.

If Keith was nervous before, he was straight up panicking now.

They two men stared at each other for a few moments in silence before Hector stuck out a hand to shake. Keith looked at the offered hand and then at Hector as he reached forward to shake it. Keith thought he was going to pass out when Hector used the grip on Keith’s hand to pull him into a one armed hug.

“You’re a fine young man, Keith,” Hector said, “Take care of my son.”

And all Keith could say was, “Yes, sir,” completely overwhelmed with gay panic.

 

* * *

 

The ride back to the city had gone by very uneventfully. Lance needed to stop the car far too frequently for Keith’s taste to use the washroom and Keith took naps when he could.

And overall, things between Lance and Keith did not get better or worse. In fact, they pretty much stayed the same, if a little weirder. Given the fact that Keith had spent the entire weekend at Lance’s family home without invoking the wrath of any the family members, Keith had to say that his relationship with Lance was almost exactly the same as it was before they left.

Almost.

Because while Lance was in his natural habitat, Keith was given the opportunity to see it. Keith got to see Lance interacting with the people he loved, Keith got to see Lance happy, and he got to see Lance mad. Keith got to see Lance completely candid and what Keith saw was amazing. What Keith saw made him realize what he’d been feeling for, what Keith was beginning to realize, a very long time.

Keith’s feelings caught up to him on the trip. Keith had romantic feelings for Lance. Strong romantic feelings for him, and while he’d expected to end up closer to Lance after the trip, he definitely did not expect he would find himself dangerously close to falling for the other boy.

This was why the moment Lance dropped Keith off at his apartment, he immediately called Pidge.

She answered on the fourth ring, her voice as dry as the Sahara as she said, “Hello?”

“Hi,” Keith said, a little frantic as he chewed at the skin on the edge of his thumb. “I have feelings for Lance,” Keith rushed out, the words like vomit.

Except, Keith definitely didn’t mean to say that. So he panicked and promptly dropped the call, throwing his phone across the room like it had burned him before he plopped onto the couch, face first.  

It did not take long for Pidge to come over.

In fact, she was letting herself into Keith’s apartment, cackling, in under five minutes. She dropped into Keith’s computer chair, spinning around as she levelled a large, shit-eating grin in Keith’s direction. Keith didn’t even need to take his head out of the cushions to know she was sending it his way. He could just feel it.

“Why did I even call you?” Keith grumbled, rolling onto his side to face Pidge—and yup, there was the shit-eating grin. “You’re just going to make fun of me.”

Pidge rolled her eyes, “Yeah, but it will also make you feel better because if I make fun of you, you can’t overthink. Gotcha, twink.”

Keith rolled his eyes as he reached for his emotional support stuffed hippo, Pom Pom, who was sitting on the coffee table. “I’m a twunk, Pidge, don’t even play.”

Pidge snorted. Then after a few beats she cooed, “Isn’t this terribly exciting?” She wiggled her fingers at Keith as if he were a cute little baby. “I heard good news, Keith. And as your friend, I had to give you congratulations in person.”

“Fuck you,” grumbled Keith.

“So, congratulations on your first feeling ever,” Pidge completely ignored Keith, deciding this was a roast Keith session.

“ _Fuck you_ ,” Keith said again, this time with more feeling, hoping Pidge would acknowledge him this time.

“I love you too,” Pidge said, smirking, “oh and Lance. You love him too.”

Keith’s eyes bugged out, waving his arms like a bird flapping its wings in a frenzy as he hastily sat up.

“Love!?” Keith shrieked, “That’s—that’s too soon don’t you think? I just said I have feelings for him!”

“Okay, calm down,” Pidge said rolling her eyes, “You’re feeling for the first time ever, so take it slow.”

“Fuck you,” Keith said.

Pidge just sent Keith an unamused stare. “Shut up and take a breath, you’re freaking yourself out.”

Keith glared at Pidge for a few beats. She rolled her eyes and mimed taking a deep breath. Keith rolled his eyes back, but took the deep breath. He would never admit to Pidge that it actually made him feel better.

“Okay, now, what do you feeling, oh inexperienced one?”

“I don’t know,” Keith said immediately, shaking his head and holding Pom Pom closer to his chest. “I…I feel—” Keith groaned, staring down at his lap. “It feels big like…too much to handle.”

“Love is too much to handle,” Pidge points out.

Keith winced at that. “I just feel like running away,” Keith admitted lowly, “I’m scared of it.”

Pidge’s face pinched, her mouth twitching into a frown and her eyebrows coming together a fraction. “What is _it_?”

“I don’t know,” Keith said feeling a little helpless, “It feels more difficult than love. Love is supposed to be easy, isn’t it?” Keith felt a little dumb saying that, and quickly added, “Like in all of those dumb movies Shiro makes me watch, they smile at each other, they laugh and go on a date, then they kiss in the rain and it’s gross and it’s easy, and they live happily ever after.”

“Okay, yeah, but that isn’t real love,” Pidge rolled her eyes. “Like I’m not an expert or anything, but commercialized love isn’t something that’s attainable. I’m aro, so really what do I know about love? But even I know that the movies lie.”

Keith laughed a little, “Something commercialized being fake? Who would have guessed?”

Pidge laughed at the joke, Keith joining in a little less than a second later.

After a few beats, Keith sighed and said, “With Lance, I just…I feel like I’m constantly being hit by a big yellow school bus or jumping off a skyscraper and going splat, you know?”

Pidge tsked and shrugged a little, “That’s what you get for never feeling a single emotion in your life, _twunk_.”

Keith threw an empty pop can at Pidge. She dodged, laughing as it hit the wall behind her with a hollow sound.

After a beat Pidge whistled and said, “It sounds like you’ve got it pretty bad.”

“But I don’t think I love him,” Keith said resolutely, shaking his head.

“So…you’re in the falling phase then?”

And that clicked.

Keith was falling for Lance. He wasn’t in love. Yet. Maybe he could be one day. He definitely could be one day.

Did he want to?

“Yes,” Keith said, shocking himself a little with how much he meant it. “Yeah…I guess I am. I’m falling for Lance McClain,” Keith said, smiling, looking out into window.

“Why you gotta be so dramatic?” Pidge said rolling her eyes. “Anyways, Romeo. Enough about this falling shit. I wanna get high and make fun of you.”

Keith rolled his eyes and plucked his bag of weed from the drawer in the end table next to him. He tossed it at Pidge’s face, hoping it would land, before it lamely landed in her lap with a plop. Pidge snorted and Keith ignored her.

“Did you bring Ancient Aliens with you?” Keith asked, squeezing Pom Pom tightly.

“Who do you think I am?” Pidge scoffed, fishing out a usb from her bag. “I came prepared.”

Keith cheered, raising Pom Pom’s chubby paws into the air. “Woo hoo.”

Pidge chuckled as she pulled her laptop out of her bag and booted it up. She dropped the baggie of weed back in Keith’s lap as she passed to hook up her computer to the TV.

“Pack a bowl,” she mumbled at Keith’s raised eyebrow.

Keith looked around him for the pipe, unable to remember the last place he’d left it.

“Under the coffee table,” Pidge mumbled from where she was focused on hooking up her laptop.

“How did you even know?” Keith grumbled as he picked up the forgotten pipe under the table. He blew out some of the old ash, using his finger to clean it a little better before he began sprinkling the already grinded weed into the bowl.

Ten minutes later, Keith and Pidge were passing the pipe back and forth, the baggie open on the coffee table and a super shitty conspiracy documentary playing in front of them.

“What should I do?” Keith asked as he passed Pidge the pipe.

Pidge looked down at the pipe, then back at Keith. She pointed at the pipe, a very confused look on her face. Keith laughed a little.

“No,” he shook his head, “About Lance.”

“Oh,” Pidge said, her confusion dropping in understanding before it quickly came back. “I dunno, man.”

Keith shoved her. “Pidge! C’mon you had all the answers a few minutes ago.”

“Um!” Pidge exclaimed, “I literally told you I know nothing about love, like two seconds ago.”

“Pidge admitting to not knowing something?” Keith teased, “Better get out my calendar. It’s now a national holiday.”

“Fuck off!” Pidge hollered, shoving Keith as they both laughed. “Be the captain of your own ship!” Pidge emphasized each syllable with some sort of whack.

“What does that even mean?” Keith yelled back at her, tears coming to his eyes at how hard he was laughing.

Pidge didn’t answer so much as she grabbed a pillow off the floor and began beating Keith with it.

 

* * *

  

Keith found himself miserable at work. Well, more miserable than normal. Pouring hot water over ground coffee beans, burning himself at least four times a day, and listening to white teenagers complain about homework really wasn’t something Keith wanted to be spending his time doing. The breaking point for Keith was probably when he dropped a cup of chai tea, watching in horror as the mug shattered into tiny little pieces, the tea going all over the floor and seeping into his shoes.

Awesome. Not only was that tea and mug coming out of his paycheque, but now he had to finish the next four hours of his shift with soggy shoes and socks. He grimaced at the sight, sighed, and went to grab the mop and the dustpan.

Keith was stopped halfway to the backroom by a hand on his shoulder. “You okay there, buddy?” Regris, his co-worker, said. “You seem a little out of it.”

“I—uh, I’m sorry,” Keith looked away, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment. “I have a lot on my mind.”

Regris stared at him for a few beats, one of his eyebrows raised. “You just dropped a six dollar chai tea on the ground and didn’t even swear. I’m about two seconds away from calling the police.”

Keith rolled his eyes and moved into the back room, “Regris, I’m fine. Just tired.”

_And falling for my best friend who I’m also fake dating_ , Keith said in his head.

“I’ve seen you tired Keith,” Regris deadpanned, “There’s usually a lot more swearing when you’re tired.” Regris leaned against the doorway as he watched Keith fill up the mop basin.

Keith sends him a dry look as he holds the hose in the pail. “Regris, I’m fine. I just had a crazy weekend at Lance’s. I’m trying to recover.”

Regris’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. “You were at Lance’s apartment all weekend?”

“No, I was at his parents place,” Keith said as if that made it any better.

“Excuse me? You were where?” Keith didn’t know eyebrows could go that high.

“I spent the weekend with him and his family,” Keith went back to the pail. It was almost full so he turned off the water and started moving it out of the tiny cleaning closet in the backroom.

“Keith, I’m shaking,” Regris deadpanned, “Are you guys together? I thought you guys were still pussyfooting around each other.”

Keith shot Regris a sharp look, “We were never pussyfooting around each other.”

Regris shot Keith a very dry look.

“Okay, fuck, whatever,” Keith relented as he rolled the mop onto the main floor.

“So?” Regris prompted as he carefully picked up the larger pieces of glass and placed them in the trash. “Are you two finally together?”

Keith sighed, “I mean, we’re fake dating.”

Regris actually gagged that time, “You’re what?”

“We’re faking.” Keith admitted, and, God, did it feel good to admit. “It started as a way to get our crushes jealous, but…” Keith trailed off.

“But you’ve fallen for Lance, like anyone could have predicted,” Regris rolled his eyes. “You’ve been in love with that idiot for at least a year now.”

“Excuse me, what?” Keith didn’t know whether he should feel angry or confused, settling somewhere awkwardly in the middle.

Regris looked up from where he was squatting on the floor. “I think it’s time for your break, yeah?”

Keith looked at the spilled chai, “I should clean this up.”

Regris rolled his eyes, “Laika's got it. Right, Laika?”

Keith sent Regris a dry look.

“Da!” Laika, the new Russian hire responded, waving his hand.

“You’re an asshole,” Keith deadpanned.

Regris rolled his eyes, “You’re a hopeless gay who needs help, and it’s not going to be busy in here for another hour, at least. Laika will be fine on his own.”

Keith rolled his eyes, but stuck the mop in the pail and moved it out of the way regardless. Because Regris obviously saw something Keith didn’t see, and Keith wanted that info.

“Who said I wanted help?” Keith said with a flat voice, because he _does_ have a reputation to uphold.

“Please, I know that look,” Regris said, “You’re just itching for me to say it. You want me to tell you all about the things I’ve seen. You want my advice and my precious knowledge.”

Keith deflated. He was desperate, wasn’t he?

“What wisdom,” Keith deadpanned, but it definitely wasn’t his strongest comeback.

Regris hummed and leaned against the counter, “Listen, from what I’ve seen, this kid comes in for your break every day. You guys talk, he shares your lunch, sometimes he even brings you a lunch. It’s adorable, and gay, and I’m pretty sure two amature bloggers have written articles about it.”

“What?” Keith mumbled, but was steamrolled by Regris.

“You guys make eyes at each other, play footsie, and touch each other a lot. It’s cute, but it’s also painfully obvious,” Regris sighed. “And any time anyone asks you about him, you say you guys are just friends. You moon over him silently, while distracting yourself with pretend feelings for this Shiro guy.”

“What?” Keith said a little louder this time. “No, I had real feelings for Shiro for a long time.”

“Yeah, _had_ ,” Regris said, “You _had_ feelings for him. Any real feelings for that beefcake went away a long time ago.”

That was news to Keith who had just gotten over Shiro less than three days ago. This must have shown on Keith’s face because Regris send Keith a dry look and said, “Really? You’re much more of a disaster than I thought.”

“Hey!” Keith said, a little affronted. He wasn’t that much of a disaster was he?

“Keith, I want you to tell me exactly what you feel for Lance,” Regris said.

Keith furrowed his eyebrows, not sure where that was coming from. “What?”

“Tell me how you feel,” Regris said again, making a ‘go on’ motion with his hand.

“I just…” Keith trailed off, a little more than uncomfortable. He shrugged a little listlessly. “I don’t know, is it so wrong for me to like him?” Keith looked away, feeling what he knew was a disgusting shade of red form on his cheeks.

Keith didn’t know why he had to fall for someone like Lance. Cocky, obnoxious, too loud for words Lance. The Lance who dutch-ovened him during a sleepover once, the Lance who thought ‘yo mama’ jokes were funny, the Lance whose smirk was so unnecessarily attractive. It was almost unfair how much that cocky look of his had come to affect Keith. Lance was obnoxiously attractive, and it sent entire flocks pigeons loose into his stomach.

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that,” Regris said softly. “We can’t stop ourselves from feeling, you know.”

Keith rolled his lips and looked away thoughtfully. That was the thing, wasn’t it?

Because there was the Lance who loved his family; the Lance who valued friendships more than anything; the Lance who was there for Keith when he felt his most vulnerable; the Lance who trusted Keith enough to confide in him when he was at his most vulnerable. Under his asshole facade, Lance was a thoughtful and kind person. He was silly and didn’t take a lot of things seriously, but that made him easy to like. And yes, Lance was annoying and douche-y sometimes, but maybe because of that, Keith’s feelings for the other boy had slowly grown into something closer to endeared rather than annoyed.

“I guess,” Keith sighed.

“And it certainly doesn’t help that Lance is a total babe, huh?” Regression added, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Shut up, Regis,” Keith said, rolling his eyes. Keith felt his face warm, because, yeah, Lance _was_ very good looking. His skin looked like gold in sunlight and his eyes were deep pools of the most refreshing water Keith had ever seen. His shoulders were broad and his waist was slim. He was tall and his fingers were long enough to be the stars of more than a few of Keith’s late night fantasies. Oh God, not to mention Lance’s back. Lance’s back was proof that God was real.

He couldn’t go on like this. Having feelings like this was fake news. Pretend. Not real. A sham. Keith was calling bullshit on this.

“Oh, and Keith?” Regris asked.

“Yeah?” Keith looked back at him.

“Who was the one to start this fake dating thing? You or him?” Regris had a tiny, little smirk on his face like he already knew the answer.

“Lance was the one who said we should do it,” Keith answered warily.

Regris’ smile bloomed as he said, “Interesting. Almost like he wanted to date you or something,” before disappearing into the back.

Keith stuttered for a moment because there was no way Regris could be right.

Right?

 

* * *

 

Keith was not stalling, and he definitely was not panicking either.

Except, maybe he was…just a little bit.

Keith had been running on the treadmill for fifteen minutes longer than could really be considered a warm up. He had been sweating so badly—from exercise and nerves—that his hair had become plastered to his face like a second-skin. He looked more like he’d been playing in the rain than running on full speed for almost an hour.

He stepped off the exercise machine, panting heavily as he used his exercise towel to wipe the sweat off of his face. Keith glanced toward the large mirror on the wall and realized it wasn’t just his hair that looked a right mess; he looked entirely dishevelled. His hair was coming out of its ponytail and sticking to his face in gross, thick, wet clumps and his face was flushed a deep red all the way from the tips of his ears to the middle of his chest. There were large sweat stains on his tank top on both his chest and back.

Light grey was definitely not the colour to have a breakdown in.

Keith leaned heavily against the machine as he chugged his water bottle. He wasn’t sure if it was the anxiety or from overworking himself that made his knees weak. His muscles were screaming from the weight, and all he wanted was to lay down in an ice bath forever.

God, Keith also probably reeked.

Keith screwed the lid back onto his water bottle, throwing it back into his bag before he began cleaning off the machine. God knew no one else should have to be subjected to Keith’s panic sweat.

Keith was just finishing up when he finally caught sight of where Shiro had disappeared to a while ago. He had just walked within eyesight with some other guy. They were chatting, a large smile on Shiro’s face as he stopped walking and turned to face the other guy fully. Keith swallowed the lump in his throat, cleaned up his supplies, and made his way over to the duo.

He took a deep breath before he pinned a smile onto his face and said, “Hey.”

“Oh, Keith!” Shiro said, beaming. Keith gave a small wave from where he was holding his bag on his shoulder. “Are you done with your set?”

“Yeah, just finished,” Keith said,trying not to think about the truly gross amounts of sweat pouring off his body.

“Awesome,” Shiro laughed a little, “You look like you had a great workout.”

Keith rolled his eyes, “Yeah, I get it. I’m sweaty.”

Shiro laughed, “Well, while you were running for a literal hour, I ran into Adam.” Shiro bumped his shoulder into the other guy’s. “Adam, this is Keith, my usual workout buddy.”

“Nice to meet you Keith,” Adam said, a friendly smile on his face.

“Yeah,” Keith cleared his throat, and gave an awkward wave. “Likewise.”

“Such a charmer,” Shiro deadpanned.

Keith glanced at Adam before turning his eyes back to Shiro, “Can we talk?”

Shiro’s eyebrows furrowed at the sudden change in topic. “Oh, sure,” Shiro said, “Just give me a sec?”

“Sure,” Keith nodded and rocked back on his heels, looking away from the other two.

“I’ll catch up with you on the track, yeah?” Shiro mumbled to Adam.

“Yeah, I’ll meet you there for a cool-down, Takashi,” Adam said back, and Keith almost lost his eyebrows into his hairline.

“Awesome,” Shiro said.

“See you around, Tak,” Adam waved as he jogged backwards in the direction of the running track. Shiro grinned and nodded, staring at Adam until he left.

“Tak?” Keith piped up, raising a brow.

“Oh shush,” Shiro said, his cheeks turning pink. “We went to college together. I just haven’t seen him in a hot minute.”

Keith hummed and rocked on his heels again. He definitely had some sort of upset ball of energy tearing up his insides, but Keith didn’t know if that was from nerves or jealousy.

After a few beats of silence, Shiro said, “So what did you want to talk about?”

Keith cleared his throat, “Maybe we should sit down,” Keith said, pointing towards the fancy garden the gym had.

“Legs sore?” Shiro smirked.

“No,” Keith snapped. “...Yes,” he amended. “Have some stuff on my mind I needed to think about.”

“Did you get it figured out?” Shiro asked as they started toward the garden.

“I think so,” Keith said, feeling some of the tension in his shoulders drop.

Shiro smiled as they both settled on the metal bench, silence stretching between them for a few moments.

“I love you,” Keith finally said, looking at the sprinkling fountain.

“Keith…” Shiro started softly, not even startled at the declaration. “We’ve—”

“Let me finish,” Keith said, he bit his lip. “Please.”

Shiro paused for a beat, then nodded.

“I’ve loved you for the longest time,” Keith said, “You were the only one who never gave up on me.”

Keith took a shaky breath. “And I…I thought it could just be us. I thought it would be always just us. It would always be just Keith and Shiro. Always having each others backs and being way more attractive than anyone within a fifty-foot radius.” Shiro laughed and Keith let himself smile at his own joke.

“We met when I was in a really dark part in my life, and you helped me through it. You helped me through every single thing that has happened since my dad died, and that’s something I don’t know how to thank you for. You helped me to become the guy I am today,” Keith glanced at Shiro, a little self-deprecating laugh escaping him. “And while I don’t really like myself that much, I honestly think I’m getting better. I’m not that sad little orphan anymore and I have you to thank for that.”

“Keith, you don’t have to thank me for anything,” Shiro said, a proud smile on his face.

“I do, because every good thing that has ever happened to me had something to do with you,” Keith finally looked right at Shiro.

Keith looked away again after a few beats. “For a while, I was kind of mad at you for not liking me the same way I liked you because you are seriously the perfect guy, Shiro,” Keith laughed, “I felt all that dumb cliche shit with you. Flowers blooming and angels singing kind of cliche. And I felt like I was just another dumb guy thinking I could have a chance with you.

“I was so dumb. How could I think that we were meant to be? Because as always,” Keith laughed sardonically, “You were just another wish that never came true because that’s what life had been like for me.”

Keith snorted. “I even used to think ‘how could things _ever_ just go right for me?’” Keith looked back at Shiro, a small smile on his face, “And then shit had to get even more complicated. Or I made it more complicated. Because I met someone. Someone I never thought I would picture myself with…but now…I can’t imagine life without him.”

“Lance?” Shiro said, bumping his shoulder.

Keith blushed. “Who else? Dumbass.”

Shiro rolled his eyes. “You make it hard to believe you were ever in love with me.”

“I was pretty obvious,” Keith said, “everyone knew. Except you. So, therefore, you are a dumbass.”

Shiro groaned.

“And well… I kind of forget that you could be a dumbass sometimes too,” Keith said, punching his arm. “You were supposed to be perfect.”

“No one’s perfect, Keith.” Shiro replied quietly, staring at Keith with some sadness.

“I know,” Keith said, giving half-smirk. “You were perfect because I wanted you to be.”

Shiro rolled his eyes, “Well, I’m so sorry to disappoint.”

Keith laughed a little, bumping his shoulder into Shiro’s, “Nah, you didn’t really disappoint me. You were a pretty good big brother.”

Shiro smiled at Keith, and for the first time in a long, long time, Keith felt nothing.

“You’ve been a pretty good little brother, too,” Shiro said, his voice doing that thing where it got softer with his emotion.

Keith rolled his eyes, officially done with this mushy shit. “You don’t have to lie to make me feel better, idiot. I was a crappy little brother. I mean, I stole your car!”

And as they laughed together on that bench, Keith knew everything would be okay, if only for a little while.

 

* * *

  

**forehead** , _today 3:27pm_  
Hey man what are you doing tomorrow night?

**mullet** **man** , _today 3:34pm_  
No plans yet

**forehead** , _today 3:34pm_  
Ok! Come to a party with me!

**mullet** **man** , _today 3:34pm_  
No

**forehead** , _today 3:35pm_  
Rude

**forehead** , _today 3:35pm_  
Whyyy

**mullet** **man** , _today 3:36pm_  
Not really my scene dude

**forehead** , _today 3:36pm_  
Cmon

**forehead** , _today 3:37pm_  
Please

**forehead** , _today 3:37pm_  
You’re my boyfriend now you have to come

**mullet** **man** , _today 3:38pm_  
I don’t see how that is relevant

**forehead** , _today 3:38pm_  
Cmon I heard Shiro was supposed to be there

**mullet** **man** , _today 3:39pm_  
Who told you that? Nyma lies dude.

**forehead** , _today 3:39pm_  
Allura told me

**forehead** , _today 3:39pm_  
She’s also going to be there so I def need to go

**forehead** , _today 3:40pm_  
And I need you there to make her jealousssss

**mullet man** , _today 3:43pm_  
Right

**mullet man** , _today 3:43pm_  
Whatever I’ll go

**forehead** , _today 3:43pm_  
YES

**forehead** , _today 3:44pm_  
LOVE YOU KEITH

_mullet man read at 3:44pm_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks again for your love and support, hopefully the next chapter will be out soon-ish.
> 
> Karlee:  
> [Personal Tumblr](https://sunscreens.tumblr.com)  
> [Voltron Tumblr](https://klancend.tumblr.com) (kick)
> 
> Dee:  
> [Tumblr](https://dee-who.tumblr.com)  
> [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/deadkid_draws/)


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A frat party and a couple of climaxes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys...., how long has it been?? too long im sorry (you don't have to kill me bc school already has,,,,, , ,)
> 
> ANyway, there's smut in this chapter. starts pretty obviously after the line "And that's exactly what he did" just before the line break. ALso be on the look out for foreshadowing in this chapter!! its the first part of the next arch which will take us to the end of the pic (in like 3 or 4 more chapters)
> 
> As always, special thanks to our lovely [beta](https://galaxy-gayrrison.tumblr.com).

The night of the party came way faster than Keith would have liked. It had been a total of one whole day since Keith realized his feelings for Lance. And while he’d gone through the stages of grief, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to see Lance again so soon. 

Because while acceptance was a good look for Keith—him being happier now and a little less reluctant with his decisions—he still felt a dark bubble of dread come over him at not only the thought of going to a party—although that  _ was _ causing him a lot of anxiety—but also of going with  _ Lance _ as his  _ boyfriend _ .

Keith wasn’t going to lie and say he wasn’t a little excited to see Lance—because he  _ was _ excited to see Lance. He kind of always was now. And he’d also be lying if he said he wasn’t lowkey excited to go to the party  _ with Lance _ . It was just that...Keith was feeling a lot.

He had a bunch of conflicting emotions running through his head and he didn’t really know where he stood on  _ anything _ . Seeing Lance again—at a party, no less—was going to throw a whole bunch of new thoughts and feelings into the mix that Keith didn’t really want to think about at all, ever. 

It all made Keith’s skin crawl; like it was too small for his body. It was gross and Keith just wanted—no—needed a distraction from it all because he felt like the plethora of feelings he was up against was going to break out of his skin and turn him into a burning cloud of raw emotion in the shape of a man.

So, Keith took the surprisingly short walk from his place to the frat house where the party was being held to clear his mind and hype himself up for the night he was about to have. It took him a good ten minutes to get there, so by the time Keith arrived, he was mentally fortified enough to handle the absolute chaos of the frat house.

The whole place was a disaster. Toilet paper was strewn across the tree in the front yard and up onto the second story balcony, there were beer cans—and for some reason a bra—littered across the front lawn. There was a group of stoners sitting just off the side of the porch, diligently smoking pot. They nodded at Keith as he arrived, and Keith nodded back. A drunk girl and her friend pushed passed Keith, sobbing, her heels in her hand, looking a mess.

Keith glanced down at his watch. It was literally only ten thirty. How were things so messed up already?

Keith sighed and pulled out his phone to send a text to Lance. It then took another ten minutes standing awkwardly outside for Keith to even get a glimpse of someone he knew. As much as Keith hyped himself up, he couldn’t really muster the courage to just walk right into the raging party inside without a companion. The sight of the house really set a damper on his spirits. He could already feel the headache forming from the blasting music inside, and he was easily a good fifty feet away from the source.

“Keith!” a familiar voice shouted from the front door. Keith glanced over, only to see a very excited looking Lance standing in the doorway. His enthusiasm must have been contagious because Keith’s mouth ticked up in the smallest almost-there grin.

(Or maybe Keith’s mouth ticked up because Lance was there, smiling at him, and saying his name, and looking like  _ that _ . His hair artfully ruffled, his open blue plaid showing off his arms and shoulders nicely, and his jeans making him look like he had an ass after all.)

(Maybe, but probably not.)

“You’re fashionably late,” Lance said as he bounded over. Keith caught Lance’s eyes flick up and down Keith’s body and had to stamp down on a blush that began working up his neck.

Okay, Keith could admit that he might have spent a bit more time choosing from his limited wardrobe to look good tonight. It was not like Keith was ever really that worried about what other people thought about him, it was just that...well, Lance was going to be there and it was going to be the first time Keith had seen Lance since he’d really discovered his feelings.

So sue Keith for wanting to look good for Lance.

It worked out in the end, didn’t it? Lance was totally checking him out.

“You look good,” Lance said, a smile rising on his cheeks as he stopped in front of Keith.

Keith shrugged in response, desperate to come off as cool and aloof. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

Lance checked him out again, his smile turning into a devastating smirk, “No problem.”

Great, now Keith’s swooning. He couldn’t really get a grip on his blush that time and saw Lance’s smirk grow. Keith cleared his throat and said, “Shall we, um, get inside?”

“Yaaas,” Lance said, his lips widening into a goofy grin as he threw an arm over Keith’s shoulders and dragged him into the frat house.

As they entered, Keith was assaulted by a wall of sickeningly sweet humid air. The smell of sweat and booze filling the air and immediately making Keith dizzy for a moment. Keith instantly remembered why he hated frat boys, parties, and especially frat boy parties. Keith could almost smell Axe body spray oozing from the walls. 

Keith was extremely thankful when Lance rounded a corner into a room filled with people Keith peripherally knew, and Pidge, all seated in a large circle.

“Hey, everybody! Keith’s here,” Lance announced, his smile bright as he gestured pointedly at the raven-haired boy. Keith squirmed from the extra attention of at least fifteen pairs of eyes on him.

“What are—um—what are we doing?” Keith cleared his throat, hating himself for stuttering.

“We’re gonna start with a drinking game to get us warmed up,” Lance quipped, bumping his shoulder into Keith’s; a silent message to loosen up. Keith took a quick breath as Lance continued, “Pidge, tell us what we’re starting with tonight!” Lance pulled Keith into his side with one arm, the other sweeping towards Pidge in a gesture that was far too dramatic.

Pidge snorted as she sipped on her drink. She raised an eyebrow at Keith before she said, “Probably ‘Never Have I Ever.’ It’s a classic.”

“Classics never get old,” Lance said solemnly. “I’ll go get us drinks, babe,” Lance said to Keith, “Just find us a spot. I’ll be right back.” Then he was unsticking himself from Keith’s side and pushing his way through the crowd into the kitchen.

Keith stood there, more than a little stunned for a few beats, just watching Lance’s back disappear into the crowd before someone (Pidge) cleared their throat behind him. Keith turned around only to be met with an extremely knowing look from Pidge.

Keith rolled his eyes and plopped down onto the closest available seat, which just so happened to be one of those very large, very comfortable Lazy-Boy chairs.

Lance came back with the drinks, shooting Keith a smirk. He held up both cups and waggled his eyebrows.

“Rum and coke for my man,” Lance said, handing him the drink. “And a vodka cranberry for myself.”

Keith rolled his eyes and accepted the drink, taking a sip immediately to hide the blush forming on his cheeks. Keith couldn’t believe that Lance had his favourite drink memorized. Like sure, Keith had Lance’s favourite memorized (vodka-cran), but that was completely different. Keith had capital F-Feelings for Lance, and Lance thought of Keith as just his best friend.

Despite Keith’s internal breakdown, he managed to scooch over in the chair to make room for Lance. Except now their thighs were touching, and their elbows were knocking, and their shoulders brushing, and it was almost too much for Keith’s little gay heart to handle. Keith felt a bead of sweat drip down his spine, the heat from the room, plus the heat from Lance’s body pressed up against him making him slightly uncomfortable.

Keith took another sip. But it was just to cool off.

“Dude, the drink is for the game,” Lance joked as he deliberately bumped Keith’s shoulder.

Keith ducked his head, “Yeah, well, it’s hot in here.”

Lance grinned, “Nah, it’s just me.”

_ Yes, it could be _ , Keith thought, but instead rolled his eyes and said, “Shut up,” as he bumped Lance back.

Keith managed to turn his attention back to the game just as a blonde girl with pigtails started.

“Never have I ever skinny-dipped,” she said, a wicked smile on her face as she looked around the circle.

Keith wanted to say he was surprised that almost half of the circle took a swig, but there was a pond on campus and at this point it was almost a rite of passage to go skinny dipping there. Keith did, however, raise his brows when Lance took his own sip.

“You too, Lance?” Keith tsked, “When I thought you couldn’t get any more basic.”

“Okay, I resent that,” Lance defended. “I like living on the edge.”

Keith rolled his eyes, but said nothing as the game continued with the boy wearing glasses next to the blonde pigtailed girl.

“Never have I ever ridden a motorcycle,” he said.

“Damn,” Keith said, taking a sip. “That’s, like, my number one method of transportation.”

Lance hummed under his breath as he swallowed his own sip. “And you took my motorcycle-riding virginity, Keith,” Lance teased, a dangerous smirk curling his lips.

“Don’t say it like that, Jesus Christ,” Keith hissed as he elbowed Lance in the chest. “You make it sound like I deflowered you or something.”

Lance laughed and then pretended to swoon. “But you did,” he mock-fainted right onto Keith’s shoulder. “You and your big, strong arms, deflowered me!”

“Shut up!” Keith exclaimed, pushing Lance back to his side of the chair as he let out a small chuckle. Keith adamantly ignored the blush colouring his cheeks.

The next girl piped up, “Never have I ever slept with a guy more than ten years older than me.”

_ Aw, fuck,  _ Keith thought as he took a covert sip, trying not to be seen while he desperately willed his blush away.

Except Keith wasn’t that lucky, because of course Lance spotted him, his eyes widening, scandalized. “You what!?”

Pidge chuckled, “I can’t remember if you were around during Keith’s  _ ‘Hoe-Gane _ Phase’.”

“Pidge,” Keith deadpanned. “Don’t even.”

“I am absolutely appalled,” Lance said, putting a hand on his heart. “I didn’t know you had it in you, Kogane.”

“ _ Hoe-Gane _ ,” Pidge coughed into her fist.

“I was eighteen!” Keith defended. “I had just escaped Texas and was now free to be out!”

“Keith, that makes him at least 28,” Pidge deadpanned. “Gross.”

“That’s not that old, c’mon,” Keith rolled his eyes.

Pidge made a face at him.

“Why are you judging me? I’m allowed to be a slut. I was eighteen!”

Pidge raised her hands in surrender as she looked away.

Keith narrowed his eyes at her.

“Keith was just a horny teenager like the rest of us,” Lance said, placating and a little more delighted at the revelation than maybe he should have been. “It just makes you less than absolutely perfect and I love that.”

“Glad to know that I’m human who makes mistakes,” Keith deadpanned.

Keith didn’t know if he missed a few rounds, but suddenly the guy next to Pidge wearing a pair of holographic Doc Martens spoke up, “Never have I ever had a tattoo.”

“Okay, what the fuck?” Keith said as he took another drink. “At this rate, I’m definitely gonna lose.”

“Oof, this is not your game,” Lance patted Keith’s back, stifling his chuckles.

“Shut up,” Keith groused.

It was then Pidge’s turn. “Never have I ever…” she started thoughtfully, her eyes tracing the ceiling before they landed on Keith. Her smirk grew and she started again, “Never have I ever fallen in love with my best friend.”

Keith glared at her before downing his drink in one go. “Alright, I lost. Game over, goodbye everyone—” Keith started to get up, side-eyeing Lance to see if he noticed his chug, only to see Lance taking one of his own.

When he surfaced, his face was red and he was smiling at Keith, “Aw, game over already?”

Keith’s heart skipped a beat. “I… uh… yeah,” Keith sputtered.

“Hm, you know what?” Lance said, standing up. “My drink’s empty too,” he offered Keith his hand. “Let’s go dance.”

Keith nodded dumbly and allowed himself to be dragged through the house into another room that was apparently the designated dance floor. Keith could vaguely hear the music pounding through the house, only half-aware of what was going on around him because Lance was in love with his best friend. Keith was Lance’s best friend. They had been for at least a year now and Lance was in love with him.

Lance was in love with his best friend, and Keith was Lance’s best friend, and Keith was also in love with Lance.

The room was dark and Keith’s vision scattered as strobe lights and lasers flashed across the crowd. Keith held onto Lance’s hand because Lance was in love with him. He held onto his hand, and he let himself get caught up in the swaying and the moving and the grinding of the crowd. Someone bumped into Keith and sent him into Lance, but Keith didn’t move away because Lance was in love with him.

Lance was in love with his best friend.

Lance leaned close into Keith’s ear and shouted, “Six o’clock!” Keith gave Lance a confused look, so Lance tried again, “Shiro and Allura. Six o’clock.”

Keith turned his head to his right only to see Shiro and Allura talking animatedly. Keith’s stomach dropped, because of fucking course.

Allura was Lance’s best friend.

Lance was in love with Allura, who was his best friend.

Lance was not in love with Keith.

Lance was in love with Allura.

Lance was only dancing with Keith right now to get Allura jealous.

Awesome.

Cool.

Great.

Yeah, this was—

This was—

This was awful. Keith felt like his heart was breaking over something he already knew. God, Keith was such an idiot. Of course it was Allura! Why would Keith think for one fucking second that his life could just go right for a change? Why was Keith always left wanting?

Keith squeezed his eyes closed and desperately tried to stamp down on the tears building behind his eyes.

“Keith, are you okay?” Lance yelled.

“Fine,” Keith snapped back.

“You sure?”

“Just—” Keith shook his head, “Make them jealous!”

And Lance did.

With one last concerned look, Lance took at step closer to Keith, his hands finding home on Keith’s hips as he slotted their legs together. Heat erupted wherever Lance touched Keith despite the thick material of his jeans. Keith felt lightheaded from the heat, the humidity, and the booze and wanted nothing more than for this to be real.

Lance ducked his head into Keith’s neck as he dragged his hands up either side of Keith’s body. Lance’s breath was warm on Keith’s neck and his hands flew into Lance’s hair without his permission; tangling his fingers into those soft brown locks.

_“So we’ll piss off the neighbours ”_ Lance sang into his ear.  _ “In the place that feels the tears, the place to feels to lose your fears.” _

Keith’s heart stuttered in his chest as Lance moved their bodies in time with the song. Their hips rolled together in a slow and sensual rhythm along to the music. Keith felt like he was going to die.

And he didn’t think he would mind.

“ _ In the bed all day, bed all day, bed all day, _ ” Lance continued, his fingertips slipping under the fabric of Keith’s shirt.  _ “Fucking in and fighting on.” _

Keith let out a groan, and oh god, oh god,  _ oh god _ . Lance was  _ very _ good at dancing, and Keith’s heart couldn’t handle another second of it. Keith couldn’t handle another second of having what he so desperately wanted dangled in front of his face.

And then Lance was turning him around and grinding into his ass, and Keith  _ knew _ that that was it for him.

Lance’s hands travelled all over Keith’s front, from his chest down to his thighs and back up again. He was burning hot trails all over Keith, whose mind was a whirlwind of  _ take it now while you still can _ and  _ get out of there, abort, abORT, ABORT! _

Keith shook his head, and pulled away from Lance, his heart racing. “Bathroom,” he yelled at Lance’s questioning look.

He pushed through the throngs of dancing people, muttering quiet apologies under his breath that none of them would ever hear over the pounding of the music. Keith was almost free when he felt a hand clamp on his wrist. He narrowed his eyes and whirled around, a snarl on his face. 

“Lance, I’m just going to the—” Keith stopped because those blue eyes weren’t familiar.

That wasn’t Lance.

“Keith, are you alright?” Allura asked.

Keith clenched his jaw, his mind processing, as he pulled out of her grasp.

“I’m fine, just—” Keith shook his head. He wanted to be angry—could even feel himself starting to burn. Everything felt too hot, and too tight, and he could still feel Lance’s hands on him, scorching along his sides, and on his hips, and on his chest. But he couldn’t bring himself to yell at her: it wasn’t her fault Lance didn’t want him.

“I just needed a break,” Keith finished looking away because Lance’s touch belonged to Allura. The dance was for Allura, even if Keith was the one pressed into Lance’s body, Lance’s eyes were on her the whole time.

Talking to her now felt like rubbing salt into a fresh wound. His face flared up in humiliation and rage, and his throat clogged, something large and unforgiving closing his windpipe.

“Do you want me to come with you?” She asked, her voice unsure and her face a mask of concern. “You’re looking a little pale.”

“No, it’s—” Keith’s voice cracked, “I’m fine, it’s okay.”

“Are you sure? I can get Lance?” Allura said, touching Keith’s forearm.

“No,” Keith vehemently declined. A thought popped in his head. Keith might as well help Lance out. “He’s actually looking for you.”

“Me?” Allura said, confused. “Why would he be looking for me?”

“He wants to dance with you,” Keith said, his heart squeezing in his chest.  _ He wants to dance with only you, _ his mind added bitterly.

“Keith,” Allura said softly her eyebrows furrowing. She sent Keith a look that was far too knowing for his liking.

So Keith looked away. “I have to…” He gestured at a random direction before turning away completely.

Keith practically ran outside. He threw the sliding glass door to the back yard open and stumbled outside. The cool night air was a relief on his overheated skin, and somehow, the smell of cigarette smoke and weed was better than the humid smell of sweat, and booze, and Axe that was the house.

Keith pushed past the small crowd of smokers, ignoring their grumbles as he made his way towards a dark and abandoned gazebo towards the back of the yard. He stumbled up the steps and collapsed onto the wooden bench that was pushed up against one of the walls. His head fell into his hands between his knees and he just breathed.

Because he didn’t know what to do with himself.

He stared at the scuffed floor of the gazebo, damp tendrils of his own hair unsticking themselves from his face only to fall and hang limply around him. The sweat that was dripping down his neck cooled, and eventually his heavy breathing evened out. He balled his hands into fists on either side of his face.

He felt like punching himself.

Or crying.

Yeah.

Or crying.

A few tears leaked out, splattering onto the weathered wood Keith couldn’t look away from.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry,” Keith hissed to himself as his view of the wood got blurrier and blurrier. His eyes burned and it just made him angrier, “Don’t you dare fucking cry, Kogane.”

But that ball of something kept pushing, and Keith’s heart kept breaking, and he couldn’t stop the tears. The dam broke, and suddenly he was crying in the backyard of a frat house in an extremely questionable gazebo all by himself while Lance was inside probably having the time of his life with Allura.

He could see it now: Allura in Lance’s embrace. His hands would be heavy on her hips just like they had been on Keith’s. Her dainty fingers would be tangling into the soft hairs on Lance’s neck, just like Keith’s had done. She would lean her head back, and Lance would sing slow songs against her throat, just like he had done to Keith.

Allura was gorgeous. She was stunning, and kind, and smart, and perfect for Lance in every way. She was good for him. She liked the same things he did, like Hot Yoga, and PinkBerry, and face masks.

Keith was—Keith was an idiot. Because while yes, he would do  _ anything _ if he got to spend his time with Lance, but that wasn’t the same as having the same genuine interests. Keith was moody, and broody, and bitter. He couldn’t keep up with Lance’s chatter, often just letting it wash over him, whereas Allura could match him word for word.

Keith wasn’t half the person Allura was.

He never stood a chance against her.

When did Keith’s life turn into such a shitty cliché?

After a few minutes, Keith decided he’d had enough. So he wiped the tears off of his cheeks and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes to get the image of Lance and Allura dancing together off of them.

Keith knew from the beginning that he never had a chance. Lance was in love with Allura and he had been for years. Lance and Keith were best friends. That was all they were, that was all they were ever going to be. And if Keith wanted Lance in his life, he needed to just pull up his bootstraps and push away his feelings for him. As soon as Keith stopped looking like he’d just spent the last 20 minutes crying (like he did), he was going to go in there, down a couple shots, and have fun.

Keith was a grown ass man. He could handle getting over Shiro, and he would handle getting over Lance.

So, with his mind made up, Keith gave himself some time to chill (and for his face to calm down) before he made his way back into the party.

Somehow he made his way into the kitchen only to see Pidge sitting on the counter cheering someone on as they hit a beer bong. Keith pulled up next to her, a smile already forming on his face.

“You okay? You disappeared for a bit,” Pidge turned to him.

“Yeah,” Keith nodded, “Just panicked for a little bit.”

“You good?”

“Yeah.”

Pidge nodded and squeezed his shoulder. “You wanna go next?” She nodded at the bong.

Keith shrugged, “Sure.”

“Hell yeah!” Pidge cheered as she shook Keith’s shoulder a little bit.

The crowd erupted in cheers as the bong was hoisted and the person who just finished stumbled onto their feet. Their back was to Keith, but he’d spent enough time staring at that back to know exactly who that was.

Lance.

He had his arms in the air as he cheered for himself. Keith caught a glimpse of the wide smile cracking his face open as he turned to the other half of the room. He was stunning under the yellow lights of the kitchen. His skin was shining with sweat, and his eyes were glittering with mirth. He was so beautiful, and Keith’s heart broke a little as he saw him. But instead of panicking, Keith smiled.

“Keith!” Lance cheered once he spotted him. “You’re back!”

“I’m back!” Keith laughed as he was pulled into a sloppy bro hug.

“You gonna chug?” Lance asked, a huge smile on his face as he gestured wildly in the direction of the beer bong.

And with Lance’s eyes shining like that and his teeth flashing at him, what could Keith have said except: “Hell yeah!”

“Hell yeah!” Lance echoed as he turned around and grabbed the funnel from someone. “Get on your knees, Keith!”

Lance laughed and Keith rolled his eyes, doing just that as a blush rose over his cheeks. Keith grabbed his end of the funnel and put it in his mouth.

“Are you ready?” Lance called as if he was a sports announcer.

Again, Keith rolled his eyes and nodded.

Lance winked, cracked the top of a beer, and started pouring. It took a couple of seconds for the beer to reach Keith, but when it did the flow was constant. It felt like he was chugging forever, his lungs screaming for air by the end of it. But the people around him were cheering, happy just to watch someone chug a can of beer through a tube. When it was over, hands yanked him onto his feet, and a stupid smile came over Keith’s face.

“Hell yeah, Keith!” Lance grabbed Keith’s hand and pulled it up into the air between them. “Beer-bong champions!”

Keith laughed along, his stomach full of beer and his chest filling with a giddy feeling with Lance smiling next to him. Keith felt a little petty for being so happy about Lance holding his hand; about Lance being with Keith instead of Allura. But Keith felt like he was glowing under Lance’s warmth, and no matter how petty he felt, he couldn’t bring himself to move away.

Keith was snapped out of his musing by Pidge dropping one of her hands on both of their shoulders as she said, “Hunk just snagged us a beer pong table, let’s go!”

Lance grinned at Keith, bringing his hand down to squeeze it. Keith’s heart stuttered in his chest, and he wasn’t sure what his face was doing, but it was probably something stupid. Pidge must have said something, but Keith missed it, because soon Pidge was leading them through the crowd, Keith trailing behind Lance who was trailing behind Pidge. 

When they got to the table, Hunk was just finishing half-filling the cups with beer. “Who’s ready for some pong?”

“Fuck yeah, me and Keith against you two losers?” Lance bumped Keith’s shoulder, his smile blinding. “Piece of cake.”

Pidge snorted loudly, “As if. You two knuckleheads are going down.”

“C’mon Pidge, I’ve seen your trig scores,” Keith taunted, “They leave a little something to be desired.”

“I showed you my bad grades in  _ confidence _ !” Pidge screeched, playfully indignant and betrayed.

Lance rolled his eyes, “Bad grades for you is probably, like, a ‘B.’”

“A ‘B’ is a fail Lance,” Pidge quipped.

“Actually, ‘C’s get degrees, Pidgey,” Lance shot back.

“Yo, are we gonna start this game or what?” Hunk broke through the chatter.

“My point still stands,” Lance said as he caught the ball Hunk tossed at him for the ball toss. “We’re gonna kick your nerd asses.”

“Little too cliche for me, Lance,” Pidge remarked dryly.

Lance just stuck out his tongue at her before turning back to Hunk, who was tossing for their team. Lance and Hunk counted to three in unison before tossing each of their balls at the same time. Lance’s bounced off the rim of a cup and Pidge caught it before it could hit the ground. Hunk’s sunk right in, winning the ball-toss and the right to go first.

“Full contact?” Pidge asked, a strange twinkle in her eye as Keith fished the ball out of the half-full beer cup and tossed it back over to Hunk.

“You know it’s full contact, gremlin,” Lance hissed back, the same twinkle igniting in his eyes.

And really, keith should have known what he was getting himself into at that point, because the next thing he knew, he was wrestling with Pidge on the floor over a ping-pong ball and the rights to an extra shot, trick-shot style. Lance was hollering, and Hunk was screaming, and Pidge had a handful of Keith’s hair, and Keith, despite it all, was having so much fun.

 

* * *

 

Somehow, Keith managed to shake Pidge and the game continued after that. It was a pretty close game, one that had actually drawn a little bit of a crowd. It was down to one cup left for each team and seeing as how Lance had just missed, it was up to Keith to sink them a win. He took a deep breath, steadied himself, and tried not to think about how the beer was definitely getting to him now.

“You can do this, Keith,” Lance mumbled, a sure smile on his face and a determined look deep in his eyes. And that was all Keith needed. He looked back at the cup, threw the ball, and sunk it directly into the cup on the other side of the table.

Keith blinked, not really comprehending what just happened. He looked to the side only to see Lance staring at him with a slack jaw, eyes wide with disbelief. All around the crowd roared and Lance jumped in excitement, shaking Keith’s shoulders.

“You did it!” Lance exclaimed loudly into his ear. “You fucking did it!”

“We did it,” Keith said, chuckling at Lance.

“We call for a redemption!” Pidge called above the crowd.

“No way!” Lance whined, “We totally won!”

“Not until the redemption shot, you don’t,” Pidge quipped.

Lance groaned and rolled his eyes. He still didn’t take his arm away from where it was slung around Keith’s shoulder.

“If I make this shot, you lose and we win,” Pidge said as she lined up the shot.

“Just get it over with,” Lance sighed, “I wanna take victory shots with Keith already.”

Keith tried not to look too pleased about that.

Pidge rolled her eyes, shot the ball, and missed.

Keith almost couldn’t believe it. 

Because that meant that Keith had sunk the winning shot.

Lance started cheering as he shook Keith’s shoulders again and Keith couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up out of him even if he wanted to.

“Keith, we won!” Lance yelled, a wide smile on his face.

“We won!” Keith shouted back, elation making his blood feel like it was on fire.

“Fuck yeah!” Lance cheered, and some people in the crowd cheered with him. Keith laughed and wanted nothing more than to kiss Lance silly in that moment. A few people moved past the two of them, others stopping to pat them on the back before moving onto the next game of pong that was already being set up.

Laughter still reverberated in Keith’s chest as he stared at Lance who was staring right back, a strange light in his eyes. They were so close, pressed together by the crowd around them and the adrenalin from their win. Lance’s eyes were so blue this close. Blue, and bright, and Keith could get lost in them for hours if Lance allowed him.

But, Keith wasn’t allowed to get lost in Lance’s eyes.

Because Lance was for Allura.

So Keith ripped his eyes away from Lance’s and glanced across the crowd. His gaze snagged on a couple that he belatedly realized was Shiro and—Adam from the gym.  

They were standing close to each other, Shiro’s back was pressed up against a wall and Adam pressed up against him. Adam was gently caressing Shiro’s arm, his face fond and in awe. Adam must have said something funny because then Shiro was laughing, and Adam was leaning in, and they were kissing. 

It was sweet. And Keith was happy for Shiro, but a surge of jealousy still went through him.

Except this time around, it wasn’t over Adam kissing Shiro. It was over Shiro getting to kiss the guy he liked, freely and openly. Shiro didn’t have to worry if Adam was only kissing him because the person he really wanted to be with was in the room. Shiro didn’t have to worry that his feelings were unrequited. Because it was just the two of them. No elaborate fake dating schemes between them. Just love.

And Keith wanted that.

He wanted that so bad.

“Oh shit,” Lance said, snapping Keith out of his daze.

Keith looked up to find Lance staring at the couple as well, a deep frown on his face. He turned back to lock eyes with Keith.

“I’m so sorry, Keith,” Lance said, biting his soft lips, sounding genuinely guilty. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s fine,” he shrugged. And oddly, it was. “Really, it—it doesn’t matter.”

Lance stared at him for a few beats, that same sad look on his face. Finally, Lance sighed, his face morphing into a wry smile. “Hey, let’s go take those victory shots, yeah?” Lance’s voice was almost a whisper, and yet, Keith could still hear him over the shouts and pounding bass of the party.

Keith felt his mouth tick up into a smile, not really sure why Lance looked so sad. “Sure. I’d like that.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

After nine shots, Keith’s brain was coherent enough to know that he was very  _ very  _ drunk. It’s not like Keith meant to down that many, it’s just that time started to blur together after a while, and the burn stopped being a deterrent, and the sad look on Lance’s face started to go away. 

Keith vaguely remembered taking a few shots off a toned, tanned body that tasted a little like coconut. He couldn’t honestly say if the taste was from lotion or Malibu, something inherently Lance.

Keith swayed on his feet, Lance steadying him with a grounding arm around his waist, Keith managing to get a whiff of his subtle coconut smell.

Keith giggled a little, smiling up at him, “Thanks.”

“Are you okay?” Lance asked.

“Yeah,” Keith leaned into Lance, wanting to stay in Lance’s arms forever.

Lance smiled, a small little thing that didn’t reach his eyes. Keith brought his hand up, his fingers tracing along Lance’s under eye. “Why’re you sad?” Keith asked.

“I’m not sad,” Lance said.

“Yeah, you are,” Keith said back. “You’re not smiling right.” Keith didn’t really know how to say what he meant.

Lance’s face melted into something sad, “C’mon, let’s get you some water.”

Keith let himself be guided through the kitchen and up the stairs to a particularly quiet section of the house. Lance made sure Keith was settled before he sat down next to him, handing off an opened water bottle.

“Drink this, please,” Lance said quietly, and Keith obeyed, taking small sips as he leaned against Lance.

“Are you even drunk?” Keith asked.

“Yeah,” Lance said.

“Then why are you so good at taking care of me?” Keith mumbled, kind of sleepy now.

Lance smiled, that same sad thing he’d been trying to pass off as normal all night. “Because you’re much drunker than I am.”

“No ‘m not,” Keith mumbled as he took another sip of his water. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

Lance laughed and wrapped his arm around Keith. They were silent for a few beats, Keith soaking up the moment and sipping on his water. Lance looked like he was thinking hard about something, but Keith didn’t really want to hurt himself trying to figure out what might be bothering Lance.

Instead, a little voice inside of Keith’s head, that was getting increasingly louder, was chanting, “Tell him! Tell him! Tell him!”

Keith was using all seven of his remaining brain cells to not tell him.

“I kinda feel like I’m gonna puke,” Keith finally said, just to stop the chanting inside his head.

“You want me to get you to a bathroom?” Lance asked, his hand moving in small circles over Keith’s back.

“No,” Keith’s eyes fluttered closed at the feeling, “I think it passed.” Keith took a small sip of his water. “Besides, if I puke it’ll be a nice surprise for the frat bros that own this place.”

Lance chuckled, “I don’t think that’s a very cool or nice surprise.”

“Good thing this isn’t your house,” Keith quipped, his head lolling so it was on Lance’s shoulder.

Lance laughed, “Good thing.” He looked away from Keith then back to him. “Are we gonna talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” Keith asked.

“Shiro,” Lance said.

Keith cocked an eyebrow and pulled himself upright. “What about Shiro?”

Lance sighed and looked away. He looked guilty for some reason. “About Shiro making out with that guy,” Lance sighed. “Keith, I swear I didn’t know, okay? I wouldn’t have made you come to this stupid party in the first place.”

“Lance, what are you talking about?” Keith closed his eyes trying to figure out where he lost the conversation. 

“The whole point of—of  _ us _ was to get you with Shiro,” Lance said.

“Yeah, and you with Allura,” Keith finished.

“Right,” Lance dismissed, and okay, that’s kind of weird. “Look, I get that we’re done after tonight. Shiro’s moved on and I’m really, really sorry, Keith.”

“Hold on,” Keith grabbed at Lance’s arm. “Hold on, slow down. We—we’re done?”

Lance was quiet for a few beats. “Yeah, Shiro’s with another guy. The plan isn’t gonna work.”

Keith’s mind was spinning and his heart was breaking, “W-wait, what about you and Allura?”

Lance looked at Keith sadly, “She’s not into me, Keith. She’s never gonna be into me.”

Keith blinked. Fuck, this was really starting to feel like a real break up.

“So, I just wanna make sure you’re okay about Shiro,” Lance said, but it sounded like it was underwater.

“I don’t care about Adam,” Keith mumbled. “I’m over it. I’m over Shiro. None of that matters to me anymore.”

Lance blinked, “So...you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Keith snapped, getting angry now. “I’m fine, and I’ve been fine, you stupid idiot.” Keith could feel the hot burn of tears behind his eyes.

“Okay, well it sure doesn’t look like you’re okay,” Lance snapped back.

“I’m just—” Keith groaned in frustration and cut himself off. “I’m just pissed off.”

“Why?”

Keith looked at Lance, the words, “I love you, and you’re breaking up with me, and I don’t want that,” almost leaving his mouth.

“Because you’re a catch, asshole, and you’ve already given up on yourself,” Keith said instead. He looked away and continued, “You danced with Allura tonight didn’t you? And you—I saw the way she was watching you when we were dancing. She—she’s really into you, I think.”

Lance was quiet for a few beats, just staring at Keith. Keith felt jittery under his gaze, almost as if Lance was mentally unspooling all of Keith’s thoughts from his head and sifting through them one by one. Keith felt naked, exposed, vulnerable under Lance’s pretty blue eyes.

Then, Keith felt his heart skip a beat as a small smile bloom across Lance’s face, followed by an even smaller chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” Keith asked. “I’m trying to be a supportive friend, here! You’re always telling me I need to be more supportive if I wanna keep you around, and believe it or not, I really wanna keep you around. So, this is me being supportive.” Keith knew he was rambling, but he couldn’t stop. The alcohol had loosened his tongue, and the impending breakup had made him desperate.

“No, no,” Lance said, shaking his head, his small smile still in place. “I just…I really hope someone’s nice to you someday, Keith.”

“What?” Keith felt completely lost.

“I mean, I hope someone looks at you one day and sees how much of an amazing person you are,” Lance explained, knocking their shoulders together. “I hope they see that  _ you’re _ the really fuckin’ good catch.”

Keith smiled tightly, his chest constricting at Lance’s words. Because this conversation sounded way too familiar—painfully familiar even. Keith sighed internally. It seemed like Keith was always going to end up in this predicament: always a good guy, but never good enough.

It was really beginning to sting.

Keith shook his head to rid himself of those thoughts. Keith can be sad later, right now he had got Lance McClain in front of him, smiling at him and complimenting him. Keith wasn’t about to let this slide.

“Are you really complimenting me?” Keith teased, raising a brow. “You. Lance McClain. My supposedly sworn rival.”

“Hey, I’m not that much of a jerk to you!” Lance squawked, breaking the weird tension between them.

Keith snorted and rolled his eyes, sarcastically, “Sure.”

“I’m not!”

“God, you were such a pain in my ass freshman year,” Keith said, reminiscing about the lanky awkward teenager Lance used to be. When his arms and legs were too long and his shoulders were too wide for his skinny little frame. Really made Keith realize how much Lance had filled out since then...and how much he’s grown up.

“You still are a pain in my ass, but now it’s kind of adorable. Like a stray puppy I’m taking care of.”

Lance made an offended noise. “Well, have you considered your stupid stinky mullet, Mullet?” Lance argued. “I swear it’s so big, it has its own orbit.”

“Fuck off, it’s not mullet,” Keith laughed, punching Lance in the shoulder lightly.

“It so is,” Lance said, tugging the ends of his hair, sending shivers up Keith’s spine. “Business in front, party in the back, baby.”

“You’re incorrigible,” Keith said fondly.

“Truly,” Lance smiled, making Keith’s heart melt a little.

Silence settled between. Not an awkward stifled one, but one closer to comfortable and easy. A silence between two long time friends. Keith dropped his head back down onto Lance’s shoulder, just basking in the silence between them.

“Y’know,” Lance started a little hesitant. “Even if Shiro doesn’t like you that way…” He trailed off picking a hole in his jeans.

“Yeah?” Keith prompted, lifting his head to look at Lance.

“It doesn’t matter,” Lance shook his head.

“ _ Lance, _ ” Keith groaned, “You can’t just—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Lance repeated, firmly, “because I do.” Lance took a deep breath and looked back down at his pants. “I really do.”

Keith’s heart stopped. “What?” Keith breathed, his eyes wide as he stared at Lance.

“You don’t have to say anything back,” Lance said, his voice so soft it could have been a whisper.

Keith opened his mouth, then closed it again. His head was filling with noise and his chest was filling with butterflies. Lance liked him. Lance liked  _ him _ !

A smile broke out across Keith’s face and he didn’t care that he probably looked a little bit like a serial killer with the way he was grinning, because Lance liked him!

Lance liked him, and Keith was going to kiss him.

And that was exactly what he did.

 

* * *

 

 

Lance slammed him into a wall, his mouth devouring Keith’s, his hands everywhere as the pictures hanging there rattled in their frames and threatened to fall. Keith arched into him, never close enough.

Lance pulled away, “Sorry,” he mumbled, a little laugh in his voice.

Keith didn’t know what he was sorry for, and instead grabbed fistfuls of his hair to drag him back into the kiss. “Shut up,” Keith hissed against Lance’s lips, loving the feeling of having Lance so close, of having Lance’s lips pressed to his own, of having Lance’s hands on his hips.

Lance pulled away from Keith’s lips, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses down Keith’s jaw and neck. Keith threw back his head, a low groan leaving his throat. “Lance—” Keith groaned, “Fuck—Lance, room.”

Lance shuddered against Keith’s throat, pressing a few last kisses there before he started moving them. Lance fumbled with a door handle that was digging into Keith’s back. After a few beats spent with Lance’s tongue in Keith’s mouth, the door finally opened and the two of them stumbled back into a closet.

Lance laughed against Keith’s lips, and Keith’s heart leapt inside of his chest. “I thought both of us were already out of the closet,” Lance mumbled. 

Keith’s heart melted as he laughed against Lance’s lips. “Shut up,” Keith said fondly. “Get us to a bedroom.”

Lance claimed Keith’s mouth again, kissing him deeply for a few suspended moments, before he was moving again. The two of them were tripping over each other’s feet, trying to find their way to an unoccupied bedroom without taking their mouths off each other.

Finally, they found an empty bedroom and Lance pulled away to push Keith onto the bed. Keith let himself fall backwards onto the bed as he watched Lance rip off his own shirt. Keith’s mouth dried as his eyes raked over Lance’s exposed skin.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” Keith mumbled as he crawled back up to the pillows.

Lance placed a knee on the bed before crawling towards Keith. “If I’m gorgeous, I don’t wanna know what that makes you,” he said, his grin curling his lips in a way that make Keith’s heart stutter in his chest.

Lance smoothed his hands up under Keith’s shirt, pulling it up as his hands moved across Keith’s torso. Lance stopped before he had Keith’s shirt off all the way. He glanced up, “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” Keith nodded, moving his hand to help Lance pull off his shirt.

Lance ducked back down, placing kisses all the way down Keith’s throat, across his collarbones to his chest. Lance flicked his eyes up to Keith—bright blue and oh so luminous in the dim bedroom—just as he placed his mouth over a nipple. Keith’s breath left him in a shudder as his hips rocked up against Lance. Lance grinned around Keith’s nipple before moving over to the other one.

Keith threaded his fingers through Lance’s hair, pulling slightly to ground himself, little breathy noises leaving him. Lance made a low rumbling sound against Keith’s chest before pulling away and placing a single kiss to Keith’s sternum.

“Keith,” Lance panted against the skin of Keith’s chest. “Is this what you want?”

Keith crooked his eyebrows, “Yeah. Thought my rock solid dick was a pretty good indicator of that.”

Lance sighed and hit his forehead on Keith’s sternum a few times. “Am I just a rebound?” Lance rephrased—and then Keith got it.

Keith placed his hands around Lance’s face and brought him up to press a few kisses to Lance’s lips, “No,” Keith mumbled, “No, Lance, I want this. I want you.”

Lance let out a shuddery breath, “You’re sure?”

“Yes,” Keith hissed, pressing his hips up against Lance. “B-but if you wanna stop we can.”

“No!” Lance said immediately. “No, I—” Lance pressed a kiss to Keith’s lips. “I’m gonna suck you off.”

Keith groaned a little at that, the idea sending a hot jolt down his spine. Lance kissed his way down Keith’s jaw, pressing little nips to a few of the most sensitive parts of Keith’s neck, before moving down his chest to the waistband of Keith’s pants.

Lance flicked his eyes up again as he popped the button on Keith’s jeans before sliding the zipper down with his teeth. Keith shuddered as Lance finally worked Keith’s pants down his hips. Lance mouthed against the fabric of Keith’s underwear, lighting Keith up in the best way possible.

“Lance—” Keith started, “C’mon, stop with the teasing.”

Lance grinned up at Keith, “Always in such a rush.”

Keith was going to say something—probably something sarcastic—when Lance finally pulled down Keith’s underwear.

Keith groaned as the cool air of the bedroom hit him, followed quickly by Lance’s warm breath. Lance placed a kiss to the head as he flicked his eyes up to Keith’s, a smile toying at the edges of his face.

He continued to trail open-mouthed kisses down the length, only stopping when he got to the base. Lance flattened his tongue along the underside of Keith’s cock, just along the vein, as he moved back up. He swirled his tongue around the head before finally— _ finally _ —taking the whole thing into his mouth.

Keith’s toes curled and his back arched as Lance bobbed his head up and down.

“Fuck—-” Keith’s voice cracked and shot up an octave, “Fuck, Lance!”

Lance popped off, a smirk on his face as he continued to jack Keith off. “Yeah, baby?”

“Fucking—-” Keith groaned in frustration as his hands flew to Lance’s hair. “Don’t you dare fucking stop,” Keith growled pushing him back down. “Just keep going.”

Lance grinned and pressed a kiss right to the messy head of Keith’s cock. “Okay, baby,” he hummed before taking Keith into his throat and swallowing around him.

Keith threw his head back and let out a long groan. “Lance, oh God—-oh fuck,” Keith babbled, as his fingers tightened in Lance’s hair. Lance pulled back up, sucking as he did, and Keith tired not to let his hips buck, but it felt way too fucking good.

Lance popped off again, holding Keith’s hips steady. “Careful, Keith,” Lance chuckled, his voice hoarse and probably the sexiest thing Keith had ever heard in his life. “If you keep doing that I’m gonna barf,” Lance placed a kiss to Keith’s messy cockhead again, “And no one wants that.”

“Sorry,” Keith panted, his cheeks somehow warming more than they already were. Keith smoothed his fingers through Lance’s hair in apology.

Lance rested his cheek on Keith’s thigh as he lazily jacked Keith off, a small smile on his face as he did it. “It’s okay,” he said after a few beats before finally taking Keith back into his mouth—for the third time now.

Lance circled his tongue around the head of Keith’s cock, causing Keith’s toes to curl and his heels to dig into the mattress. Lance passed his tongue over Keith’s slit once quickly before digging in fully. Keith’s hands tightened in Lance’s hair as he groaned and tried not to buck his hips.

Lance bobbed down again, taking Keith into his throat a few more times before Keith was tugging on his hair. “Lance—” Keith panted, “Lance, c’mere. Lance—”

Lance popped off, a concerned look on his face, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong,” Keith said, pulling Lance up to him. “Just wanted to kiss you,” Keith mumbled against his lips and Lance met him halfway. When their lips touched, Keith almost groaned. Lance was such a good kisser—which Keith already knew—but with the added knowledge that Lance had been using his mouth to suck him off just seconds ago was enough to send a jolt of arousal down Keith’s spine.

Keith smoothed his hands down Lance’s bare front before landing on his pants. “And I wanted to take these off,” Keith teased as his fingers worked at the button.

Lance grinned back, his fingers coming to pull down the zipper of his jeans. Lance shimmied out of his pants and underwear still hovering over Keith—which in and of itself was pretty impressive.

Keith pulled Lance down for a kiss just as he wrapped his hand around Lance’s cock. Lance’s groan was music to Keith’s ears, and he was so focused on enjoying Lance’s groan that he was caught completely off guard when Lance’s hand wrapped around him.

Keith groaned back, before pulling away to throw his head back and breathe. Lance took this opportunity to press sloppy, open-mouthed kisses all along the column of Keith’s throat. Keith rocked his hips into Lance’s fist, unapologetic now that Lance wouldn’t choke if he let himself go.

“Lance—” Keith’s voice cracked. “Lance—fuck—yes,” Keith babbled, already much closer than he’d like to be.

Keith was going to blame it on the alcohol.

“Close?” Lance panted against Keith’s neck.

“Yeah,” Keith sighed as his hand on Lance’s cock stuttered in its movement.

“Okay, Keith, c’mon,” Lance whispered into Keith’s ear.

“W-what about you?” Keith stuttered, stupidly wanting to cum at the same time as Lance.

“I’m getting there, don’t worry about it,” Lance said, his hand speeding up and rhythmically tightening perfectly.

“Shi—oh,” Keith whimpered, his hips jerking and his hand stuttering as he finally came onto his chest with a long groan.

Keith took a few moments to breath, before he flipped Lance over and began placing kisses on every inch of skin he could reach as his hand worked quickly and tightly over Lance. Keith loved every second of listening and watching Lance come undone. The way his eyebrows furrowed, and his cheeks heated up, his ears turning red. The way Lance threw his head back as Keith twisted his wrist on the upstroke, or the way Lance curled upward when Lance pressed a kiss to his nipple and thumbed at his slit.

Lance was gorgeous. And Keith already knew that, but for every second he laid with Lance, he became more and more sure of it.

Lance was gorgeous.

And when Lance did finally cum, groaning out Keith’s name, Keith knew he’d never see anything better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Karlee:  
> [Personal Tumblr](https://sunscreams.tumblr.com)  
> [Voltron Tumblr](https://klancend.tumblr.com)
> 
> Dee:  
> [Tumblr](https://dee-who.tumblr.com)  
> [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/deadkid_draws/)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes things go really wrong and you have to do something to fix it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys, thanks again for sticking with us. things should come faster as there's only two-ish chapters left and we have everything all planned out! 
> 
> Thanks again as always to our amazing [beta](https://galaxy-gayrrison.tumblr.com)!

Keith woke up in stages—noticing things slowly, one sense at a time. First it was how comfortable he was. He was comfortably snuggled up against a warm chest, large hands holding him close and keeping him safe. Someone was breathing above him, their breath lightly brushing against Keith’s forehead. 

Then, finally, Keith remembered that the same broad hands holding him close now, held him  last night. The breath tickling his forehead, groaned Keith’s name last night. The chest Keith was snuggled up to, heaved with pleasure last night.

Keith smiled at the memories, smiled at the words that were said, and basked in the meaning they held.

Lance wanted Keith.

And Keith wanted Lance.

And they both knew it.

And they didn’t have to fake it anymore.

Despite the headache pounding at Keith’s temples, and the ache in his back, Keith was giddy. His heart was skipping over every other beat, his stomach full of butterflies, and he never, ever wanted to let go of this moment, or this feeling—no matter how much of a sap it made him.

Keith tilted his head and gazed at Lance’s sleeping face. It was probably creepy that he was just staring as the other slept, but Keith couldn’t help himself. Lance was gorgeous. His skin glowed in the morning sun, his lips looked so soft, and his face held no lines like it did when he was awake. Lance was gorgeous, and Keith just wanted to stare.

It was how Keith knew Lance was waking up.

It started with a little twitch to one of his eyebrows, then his eyelashes fluttered, and his mouth turned down. Lance scrunched his eyes closed and stretched out his legs and then finally— _ finally _ —opened his eyes. They were unfocused at first, but after a few blinks, Lance’s eyes landed on Keith.

He smiled, then frowned, then closed his eyes again, letting out a small, pained groan.

“Headache?” Keith mumbled, his voice scratchy in the way it was every morning.

“Yeah,” Lance opened his eyes again, squinting. He looked around the room. “What happened?” Lance asked, his voice scratchy as he pulled away from Keith completely and sat up.

Keith’s heart stopped and he sat up a second after Lance. “You don’t remember?”

Lance chuckled a little and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. “No,” he huffed. “Hope I didn’t say or do anything too embarrassing,” he peeked under the covers. “Well, I’m still wearing underwear, so it couldn’t have been anything too horrible.”

Lance turned to Keith who had gone cold. Keith couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t do anything because  _ Lance didn’t remember. _

God, that meant that Lance was way more drunk than Keith was. Keith took advantage of Lance, and he didn’t even know. God, Keith thought  _ he _ was the drunk one. Lance was taking such good care of him, Keith didn’t even stop to think that Lance might not be sober enough to make his own decision.

Suddenly, the butterflies that had been fluttering around in his stomach sprouted daggers.

Keith thought he might puke.

“Do you remember?” Lance broke Keith out of his spiraling. “Last night I mean,” Lance stared at Keith, a strange look on his face.

“I—” Keith started, his chest seizing. “I don’t either,” Keith said, because Keith was a coward and wanted nothing more than to just leave. To leave and never come back here again. He wanted to never go to another party in his life, never have another feeling in his life, and he certainly never wanted to be the kind of man he was being right now.

“I don’t remember either,” Keith said again as he started getting out of bed. Keith silently thanked God—and also Jesus—for past Keith and Lance thinking to put on underwear before they passed out last night. If they didn’t, there’d be no mistaking what they did.

No mistaking what Keith had done.

Lance huffed and rubbed his eyes again, shaking his head a little this time. Keith couldn’t be 100% sure, but it sounded like Lance mumbled, “What did I expect?” under his breath.

Keith tried his best not to look at Lance as he shoved his legs into his pants, and his shirt over his head. Keith made a hasty retreat, his phone out, already dialing Shiro’s number.

He picked up on the fourth ring. “Hello?” His voice was raspy—he just woke up.

“Shiro, I fucked up,” Keith rushed out, panicking. “I really fucked up and I don’t know what to do. Lance is gonna hate me.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Shiro said, his voice clearing. Some fabric rustled in the background like he was sitting up. “Slow down. What happened?”

Keith took a deep breath. “Lance and I—” Keith’s voice broke. “I thought—” Keith needed to start again. “Last night, I wasn’t feeling good, so Lance took me upstairs with some water. And I told him how I feel a-a-and he responded well, and we did some stuff, and then this morning when we woke up he said he didn’t remember—”

“Hey, hey,” Shiro interrupted as Keith started to work himself up again. “What do you mean? Did you tell him you loved him?”

Fuck—Shiro didn’t know the truth. “We were never dating in the first place!” Keith said—probably a little louder than he needed to—as he flung his arm out. “Lance had this dumbass idea to fake date or whatever to make you and Allura jealous. And it was stupid and it was never going to work anyway.”

Keith turned around, having stalked off in the wrong direction in his panic, only to see Lance standing there, slack-jawed and glassy-eyed. He was holding Keith’s jacket in one hand—probably the reason he was standing there in the first place. Keith heart, that was already in his stomach, dropped to Hell.

“Fuck,” Keith said, dropping his phone from his ear and ending the call.

Lance closed his mouth, recovering as his face hardened.

“Here,” Lance said, thrusting the jacket at Keith. “You left this in the house because you were in such a rush to get away from me and my dumbass ideas right?”

“Lance—” Keith started, but Lance cut him off.

“Nah, it’s cool I get it,” Lance said in a tone that made it very clear that it was  _ not _ cool and Lance did  _ not _ get it. “Wouldn’t be the first time I was somebody’s rebound.”

“Lance—” Keith said again, but cut himself off this time. “Wait, you remember,” Keith accused. “Why would you lie?”

Lance shrugged emphatically, “I’m always second best, Keith! And I don’t wanna be!” Lance stared at Keith fro a few beats. “I’m tired of being second best—o-or fake best—or whatever! So, this thing between us is over,” Lance let those words hang in the air for a few moments before letting out a long sigh, “I'm tired.”

Keith didn’t know what to do. His heart was pounding in his chest and his head was fuzzy and Lance looked so, so sad standing in front of him, his shoulders slouched and his face fixed into a frown. Keith didn’t know what to do—what could make things better—so he did nothing at all.

Lance let out another long sigh, gave another shrug, and then walked away.

Keith watched him go, his heart breaking.

He was only snapped out of his moping by his phone buzzing in his hand. It was a call from Shiro.

Keith let out a shaky sigh and answered it, “Hello?”

“What happened? Are you okay? Why did you hang up like that?” Shiro rattled off. Keith could practically see the worry lines on his face.

“Relax, Shiro,” Keith sighed. “I just royally fucked my way out of Lance’s life forever.”

Shiro was silent for a few moments. “So you’re not arrested?”

Keith sighed, “Not arrested.” You get arrested  _ one time _ and suddenly that was the only thing anyone ever thought about.

Shiro was silent on the other end of the line for a few beats. He sighed and then said, “Where are you right now?”

“Outside the frat house,” Keith croaked.

Shiro made a small noise, “The frat house is closer to my place then it is to yours.”

Keith sighed and started walking. “I’m on my way,” he said, shrugging on his jacket.

The worst part?

It kinda smelled like Lance.

* * *

Keith stood slouched in the corridor outside of Shiro’s apartment, waiting for him to answer the door. Keith felt like his entire world was falling apart around him. Last night was so good—amazing even, and now this whole thing with Lance had truly gotten Keith fucked up.

It was just that, Lance remembered last night. He remembered what Keith said, he had remembered what they’d done, but he lied. He said he forgot. Why...why would he do that if he wanted to be with Keith?

Shiro finally opened the door, wearing only a thin sleep shirt and grey sweatpants. For the first time in a long time, Keith didn't ogle him. In fact, Keith was feeling a whole lot of nothing right then.

“God, what took you so long?” Keith grumbled, pushing past Shiro into his apartment.

Keith clumsily kicked off his shoes as Shiro closed the door behind him. Keith found the answer to his earlier question as he walked around the corner into the living room only to see Adam sitting on the couch with a coffee.

“Oh,” Keith said, coming up short. “Hey, Adam.”

“Hey Keith,” Adam waved, a small smile on his face. He cleared his throat, “I can see this is a brothers thing...do you want me to leave?”

Keith sighed. He really did want Adam to leave, but he also wanted to respect Shiro and his space. Plus Adam was probably sensible if he was dating Shiro.

“No,” Keith sighed again. “It’s fine. I’m a mature adult. I can face my own failures like a man.”

Adam laughed a little before sipping his coffee, “Now I’m really getting the family resemblance.”

“Oh, we’re not blood related,” Keith said, sitting in the armchair beside the couch. “Even I’m not that unlucky.”

“Alright, I understand you’re in a rough spot right now, but that’s no excuse to start up a roast Shiro sesh with my new boyfriend, thanks,” Shiro quipped.

Keith let out a little breath, reminded of why he was here in the first place. He sunk into the armchair, bringing his legs up unto the cushion to hold onto. Shiro placed a cup of coffee on the side table next to Keith. Keith grunted out a small thanks before he picked it up to take a sip.

Shiro sat next to Adam, his arm falling around his shoulders to pull Adam closer to him. “So,” Shiro started, “What’s going on. And start from the beginning.”

Keith sighed and curled around his coffee cup. He looked up at Shiro—whose face was warm and open and completely non-judgemental, even though it probably should have been—and told him everything. Starting at the coffee shop all those months ago with just a silly idea, to spending Memorial Day long weekend with Lance’s family, finally finishing with the party last night and this disastrous morning.

“And the worst part isn’t that we lied to all of the people close to both of us for the larger part of 6 months, but the fact that I was in love with him from the moment he asked me to fake date him and I didn’t even realize until last week,” Keith finished with a huff.

Keith looked up from his coffee cup, which is where he’d been looking the entire time only to see two shocked and confused faces. Keith felt a blush work its way up to his ears like a physical manifestation of his shame and his guilt.

“I don’t know whether to congratulate you on the wildest con I’ve ever heard of, or hug you a whole lot for how much of an oblivious dumbass you’ve been this whole time,” Shiro said.

“I think I’m going to have to vouch for the hugging one, please,” Keith said, his voice small.

Shiro’s expression melted into something closer to fondness as he got up and crossed the room. Keith placed his coffee down just in time to be enveloped in a hug that was both new and familiar. Familiar because it was Shiro and he was always had a type of hug ready especially for Keith, but new because Keith saw the hug for what it was: familial.

* * *

It had been a month and Keith still didn’t know how to talk to Lance. Usually, Keith is the type person to just let things go. He learned early on that most things aren’t permanent and will disappear like dust on the wind sooner or later. That was just how things have been for Keith. And he had learned to move on.

But this?

This was something different.

_ Lance _ was different.

Keith couldn’t just brush  _ him _ off.

And as much as Keith wanted to speak to Lance, Lance made it very obvious that he did not want to speak to Keith. Lance had been avoiding Keith like he had the plague.

Lance moved seats in all of their shared classes, he always somehow managed to come up with some shitty excuse as to why he can’t hang out if Keith was there, and stopped dropping in on Keith’s breaks at work.

Keith used to complain a lot about his peace and quiet being disrupted by Lance, and after this icy month-long silence, Keith would give anything to be disrupted as long as it was Lance.

It hurt to not have Lance around anymore, but the longer Keith goes nursing his own wounds and not saying anything, the farther away Lance gets.

It just hurt.

Keith was supposed to be studying with Pidge in the library, but was instead scrolling down his instagram feed (it was called a break, Pidge, look it up). Keith didn’t really know why he had Instagram downloaded anymore, it was not like he had pictures of his boyfriend to like anymore. Keith was just about to close the stupid app when he scrolled upon a picture of a smiling Lance…with a smiling Allura.

Their beaming faces were pushed together, cheeks brushing and flushed. The caption read:  _ Heading to Pinkberry for a little cool-down treat after that killer yoga class with the love of my life! _

Keith’s mouth soured. Of course they were together now. Lance always wanted Allura anyway. He finally got what he wanted and Keith helped him get there. Of course.

Keith clicked on Lance’s profile even though he knew it was probably not a good idea.

It was just that, Lance cut off all communication and Keith just wanted to know how he was doing...if he was okay, you know? At least that was how Keith justified it to himself.

As soon as the profile loaded and the top three photos were of Lance and Allura, Keith should have left. He should have unfollowed Lance and deleted the app. Instead, because apparently Keith was a masochist, he kept scrolling. The farther Keith scrolled, the deeper the pit in his chest expanded.

Because all of the pictures of Lance and  _ Keith _ had been deleted only to be replaced with pictures of Lance and  _ Allura _ .

_...who knew running with your bestie could be so fun?! _

_...us? At Pinkberry again? It’s more likely than you think. _

_...with the love of my life! _

Picture after picture of Lance and Allura hugging, and laughing, and kissing each other’s cheeks each with their own cute little caption written out by Lance. Keith couldn’t stop scrolling, no matter how much he wanted to. It was like watching a car crash: he wanted to look away, but he just couldn’t force himself to.

The worst part was that he wasn’t even really sure why Lance was so mad at him. Like, sure, Keith lied about remembering the party, but so had Lance. Lance had lied  _ first _ ! And sure, Keith had been on the phone with Shiro, but Keith had been freaking out because he thought he—he thought he took serious advantage of Lance.

Keith didn’t know what he did wrong, and he didn’t know how to fix it, but Lance seemed to be having the time of his life with Allura now.

...So maybe Keith should just leave it alone.

Maybe Keith should just move on. Maybe he should just let Lance and Allura be happy with each other. They can be perfectly healthy and gorgeous all on their own and Keith won’t have to worry anymore about people invading his lunch breaks or making him take a road trip upstate or forcing him to make good impressions on their families. Keith won’t have to do any of that anymore, because it will be Allura’s problem and she’ll do amazing at it anyway.

Keith should leave it alone.

He knew he should.

That didn’t stop a dull ache from taking up residence in his chest. It didn’t stop the giant hole in his stomach from wanting to be filled. It didn’t stop Keith from feeling immeasurably ugly.

“You’re obsessing over him,” Pidge deadpanned as she placed a hand on the screen of his phone, pushing it down so the phone was laying on the table, not three inches from his face. Keith blinked. He’d forgotten that Pidge was there with him.

“I am not,” Keith defended, “I just wanted to check on him.”

“Keith, all you talk about is Lance nowadays,” Pidge said, “I’m sorry to say this, but…maybe it’s time to let go of him. Y’know?”

“Lance is my  _ friend, _ ” Keith said.

“It’s shocking to hear you admit that.”

Keith send Pidge a dry look before dropping his phone into his bag. “I don’t care if he doesn’t feel the same way anymore,” Keith said, “I just don’t want to lose him. His friendship is more important than whatever dumb feelings I still have for him.”

Pidge was silent for a few beats. She’d been doing this a lot lately—like she had something she wanted to say, but wasn’t sure if she should say it or not. Finally, she let out a little sigh. “Look, Keith, I don’t really know if you...deserve to have him back.”

“What?” Keith straightened up.

“Look, you’re my friend too, which is why I haven’t said anything yet, but it’s getting a little old watching you obsess over someone who you obviously don’t like that much,” Pidge said, every work like a dagger to the chest.

“Pidge, what are you talking about?”

“I just mean, you kind of deserve Lance being distant after that shit you pulled with saying Shiro’s name when you guys were fucking—”

“Wait, what?” Keith said, eyes widening, “What are you talking about?”

“Lance told me, alright?” Pidge said. “I didn’t hold it against you at first because you were pretty drunk that night, but dude. C’mon. If you’re not into the guy, don’t fuck around with him. It’ll save us a lot of trouble.”

“H-hold on,” Keith stuttered, his mind racing. “I-I didn’t say Shiro’s name. I—” Keith wracked his brain for memories of that night, trying to go over everything he said. It was hard because he was drunk and a lot of what he said that night was just a bunch of cursing, Lance’s name, and groaning.

Keith knew one things thought, “I didn’t say Shiro’s name.” He shook his head. “I need to go,” Keith rushed out, because if  _ that’s  _ the reason Lance is so upset, Keith could totally fix it. He shoved all of his books into his bag, hastily zipping it closed before dashing out of the library.

“What—Keith!” Pidge called behind him, but Keith was already gone.

Keith could fix this, all he had to do was find Lance.

Keith ran out of the library, the ice that had froze over his heart began to melt under the warmth of hope. Keith could fix this. He totally could! He would just explain that he loved  _ Lance _ , and that he didn’t remember saying Shiro’s name and even if it sounded like it was Shiro’s name there was a 300% chance Keith was not saying Shiro’s name. It wasn’t foolproof, but it was a plan, and Keith was excited for the first time in a long ass time.

Because he knew what to say.

He knew how to fix this.

Keith whipped around a corner and came barrelling into someone.

“Oh fuck, shit, I’m so sorry,” Keith stuttered, grabbing onto the other person to help steady them. It was then that Keith recognized the person he bumped into, “Oh, Allura!”

“Oh Keith, hello,” Allura greeted, a pretty smile settling onto her face. “Fancy seeing you here. I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Keith said quickly, rocking back on his heels. Allura loved small-talk— thrived off it even, and if Keith wanted to get anywhere today, he’d need to take this conversation and steer it where he wanted it to go. “Do you know where Lance is?”

Allura blinked, a little surprised at the sharp change of subject. “I don’t think that’s any of your business, Keith,” Allura said, her lips going in a tight line.

Keith stopped, his heart pounding in his chest. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Allura started daintily, which is how Keith knew he was about to get verbally destroyed. “Seeing as how you strung him along for the better part of six months only to say someone else’s name during sex, I think it’s probably for the best that you leave him alone.”

Keith pursed his lips, “Good to know everybody except me knows what I did or did not say during sex.”

Allura raised an eyebrow, “What are you saying, Keith?”

Keith let out a (probably too dramatic) huff, his arms flapping a little. “I didn’t say Shiro’s name—or anyone else’s other than Lance—that night. I know it. Shiro was the last thing on my mind.”

Allura crossed her arms and was silent for a beat. Finally she said, “Regardless, Lance is very,  _ very _ hurt.”

“Yeah, I’m aware,” Keith snapped, which was probably a really bad move. “And up until about five minutes ago, I had no idea  _ why _ .”

Allura narrowed her eyes at Keith a little, but it was more of a scrutinizing look than a murderous one. “You mean he didn’t talk to you about it? He didn’t ask?”

“No!” Keith exclaimed. “No, because that would be a completely sensible thing to do!”

“Okay, calm down,” Allura sighed, “You haven’t been very sensible recently either.”

“Ugh,” Keith rubbed his hands up his face, because Allura was  _ right _ .

Seemingly reading Keith’s mind, Allura let a small smile grace her lips. “I do have to admit, he was happy with you.”

“I was happy with him too,” Keith sighed. “We were never dating though, you know?”

Allura tilted her head as she asked, “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know if he told you, but we were just faking,” Keith explained. “He wanted to make you jealous...which I guess worked because you’re together now.”

“Keith…” Allura started, “Lance and I aren’t together. Not in anyway that’s more than friends.”

“What?”

Allura let out a little laugh—it was more huff than anything really. “You know, I’ve always been a little jealous of you.”

“ _ What _ ?” Keith said, jaw dropping. “Why would you be jealous of me? You’re—you’re fucking perfect! With the hair and the skin and the grades.”

Allura sighed, she hitched her bag higher, “He’s always wanted you.”

“No, no, that’s not true,” Keith shook his head, confused. “He’s always wanted you! He used to go on for hours about how much he loved you and wished you’d notice him.”

Allura smiled sadly. “Lance has always been good at hiding his feelings. I confessed almost a year ago now and he told me he was in love with someone else.” Allura let out another sad little sigh, “It didn’t take me too long to realize that someone was you.”

“What?” Keith said quietly, almost a whisper.

“The way he looks at you, the way he talks about you,” Allura said, smiling sadly. “He just has this thing for you that I could never compete with.”

Allura tsked and shook her head a little, “But, now you’ve gone and broken his heart. He doesn’t deserve to be hurt. Not when he’s loved you so unconditionally.”

Allura placed a hand on Keith’s shoulder, “Keith,” she started, “As much as I want to punch you right now, I honestly think you’re hurting just as much as he is. So, you go fix this. You make this right.” She smiled a little, “And make it sappy. Lance loves sappy.”

Keith nodded frantically, “Right, okay, yeah. I can do that.”

“Excellent, because if I have to sit through  _ Crazy, Stupid, Love _ one more time, I’m going to kill you,” Allura patted Keith on the shoulder before walking away. “Good luck,” she called over her shoulder.

“Christ,” Keith said, running a hand through his hair. He pulled out his phone and called Pidge.

“Why’d you leave all of the sudden?” Pidge said, instead of a greeting.

“Allura just told me that Lance loves me,” Keith said, “Since forever apparently.”

Pidge sighed, “Well it wasn’t exactly his best kept secret. He’s had a crush on you since the dawn of time. He’s just been using the pulling-your-pigtails-for-attention tactic like a kid. Or in your case, pulling your mullet.”

“It’s not a mullet!” Keith said, then hung up. Fucking Pidge.

Keith scrolled through his contacts and tapped Lance’s name. It rang all the way through before going to voicemail. Keith sighed and hung up only to try again. This time it went straight to voicemail after one ring.

Okay, Lance didn’t want to talk to him. That’s fine. Keith would make do.

He took a deep breath and started planning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Karlee:  
> [Personal Tumblr](https://sunscreams.tumblr.com)  
> [Voltron Tumblr](https://klancend.tumblr.com)
> 
> Dee:  
> [Tumblr](https://dee-who.tumblr.com)  
> [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/tweedeez/)


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All things must end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey it's Karlee, coming at you with the last chapter!! Guys, it's the end and I know we said we'd have 2 more chapters for you, but we just got excited and decided we could fit both into one. Thank you guys for sticking with us both on this crazy amazing journey. Your love and support has been just amazing and I don't even have words to explain how happy you all have made me! Thank for reading and we hope to see you in the future!
> 
> Hello readers! Dee here!
> 
> First of all, thank you so much for reading this story. It means a lot to us. It is truly a labor of our love. No matter how long we take to update, you guys still manage to keep an interest in our story. We’re glad that you laughed, cried, and got angry at our boys. Let’s face it… they’re dumbasses… but they are our lovable dumbasses. It’s been almost a year since we posted Skinny Love. (and it was almost named Fake Love bcos BTS) and well, we wanted to name it skinny love for a few reasons. We wanted it to memorable.
> 
> In my opinion, I think this story is called skinny love because it feels like there maybe no reason or no chance of all for them to get together because there’s nothing for them to connect/bond these two dummies. (and they’re too dumb to really talk about it anyways) but later, they prove it wrong. Their love isn’t skinny at all. Their love is full. Their love has meaning. It’s not your normal everyday relationship. But c’mon… it’s Keith and Lance. Their love isn’t fake at all. It’s true and it’s wonderful and fulfilling. So yeah, Skinny Love. Thank so much for reading and we hope you’ll read any of our future works! :D

If there was one thing Keith knew about Lance, it was how much of a hopeless romantic he was. Lance loved flowers, and chocolate, and soft ambient lighting. He liked grand gestures and kisses in the rain. And even if Keith didn’t really think about stuff like that, it didn’t mean that he didn’t want to do that sort of thing for Lance. Because Lance would do it for Keith without hesitation.

The problem was that Keith didn’t really know what to do. The only idea he had so far was standing outside Lance’s dorm with a boombox in the rain, but the forecast for the next week was calling for more sun and well...Keith didn’t want to wait any longer than he had to.

Keith sighed heavily and rubbed his face. “What the _fuck_ even is a grand gesture?” Keith huffed, slumping exhausted over his laptop. He wasn’t sure if his eyes were burning from staring at his screen in the dark for too long, or from the amount of stress he was going through.

And, well, it didn’t help that Keith’s bank account was looking pretty sad right now. He couldn’t exactly rent out a fancy restaurant and treat Lance to a three course candlelit dinner.

Keith hauled himself back upright and pursed his lips. He needed to find something _good_ and believe it or not, none of these _Seventeen_ articles were cutting it for Keith. He had about ten tabs open and so far all he had gotten was the same four tropes from a million different rom-coms. Was it so much to ask for his brain to kick into gear and produce some type of original thought?

“He’s going to take me to an early grave,” Keith said, hos phone sitting on the desk in front of him as he talked to Pidge on speaker. “I’m literally going to die from embarrassment.”

“Hey, it’s better than dying alone,” Pidge’s voice came up from the phone, tinny and completely deadpan. “Unloved and uncherished. Believe me, Lance is a sucker for this kind of shit.”

“God,” Keith said with a groan. He ran a hand through his hair. “ _God.”_

“You called?” Pidge said.

“Okay. First of all, you’re not God, you’re not merciful enough. Second of all, where the fuck are people getting all these boomboxes in this day and age?” Keith snarked, squeezing his eyes shut as he pinched the space between his eyebrows. He was getting a headache.

“Oh,” Pidge said, “I know someone.”

* * *

Keith felt like he was buzzing. Something big and restless was moving around inside of him, making his skin crawl and his stomach churn—like it was trying to take over his whole body. Keith didn’t think he could handle it; it was too much all the time, and at this point Keith felt like he was drowning under the weight of whatever that _thing_ was.

He was mostly just running on autopilot at this point. He felt exhausted from planning and stressing over this thing with Lance, desperate to try and make things right; to make things perfect for Lance. And honestly, Keith felt a little strung out.

“Hello, Earth to Keith?” Matt said, snapping his fingers at him.

“Huh?” Keith felt like he was slam dunked into the present. He was standing in a hallway and Matt Holt was in front of him. Why…?

Right. The boombox.

“Sorry,” Keith muttered, shaking his head. “Long night. Can I come in?”

“Yeah, sure, what can I do for you in Casa de Holt?” Matt asked with a very Pidge-like grin. “There’s usually a reason.”

Keith kind of felt bad, but in his exhausted state of mind, he really couldn’t bring himself to feel any sort of real guilt over only visiting Matt when he needed something. “Pidge said you had a boombox. I was wondering if I could borrow it.”

“Ah,” Matt said, a look of understanding on his face. “Is this about the Lance thing?”

“Wh—hold on, there is no _Lance thing_ ,” Keith stuttered indignantly. “And even if there _was_ —which there _isn’t_ —how and why would you know about it?”

“Your best friend is my sister and my best friend is your brother, both of which are gossips,” Matt deadpanned. “I know about the existence of the Lance thing.”

“Fucking—why am I friends with them?” Keith seethed, too tired to really get angry about it.

“You’re gonna use the boombox to try and woo Lance, aren’t you?” Matt asked, completely ignoring Keith.

“Wh—no,” Keith crossed his arms. This was quickly spiralling out of control.

“Oh, so I should be watching SoundCloud for your fire mixtape, huh?” Matt teased. “You know, I never pegged you as the SoundCloud rapper type, but here we are.”

Keith sighed heavily. He seriously didn’t have the mental capacity to handle this conversation right now. “Can you just give me the damn boombox?” Keith grunted.

“Nuh-uh, you have to go through the trials,” Matt said, “You’re not the first guy who wanted to borrow this precious artifact!”

“It’s a boombox,” Keith said in a dull tone.

* * *

A million, billion years ago, in a land far, far away from where Keith was right now, Lance had once told Keith a story. He’d been in love with this chick (Allura) and he’d wanted to win her over. He hadn’t had any luck winning her through normal human connection, so he’d had to step it up a notch.

It had been a quiet night—a little cloudy with a high chance of rain. Her window was open and she was only on the third floor. The music rental store had happened to have the song he wanted on cassette and his boombox was fully powered. It seemed like the stars had aligned as his love sat down at her desk right in front of the window.

Lance had pressed play on _Careless Whisper_ , arguably WHAM’s greatest hit, and let the sweet, sweet sounds of Steve Gregory’s amazing saxophone playing serenade her into his arms.

Except, in Lance’s version of the story, it hadn’t worked.

She looked up from her desk, smiled. She laughed and leaned outside. “You’re going to wake up the whole building,” she had said.

“Then let them wake up! I love you,” he’d said back, the boombox lifted above his head.

She’d smiled sadly and told him she didn’t feel the same—that she’d never feel the same—and that he should go home.

At the time Keith had rolled his eyes at the story. Lance was ridiculous. There’s no way that would work—especially on Allura who was more of a silent romantic. She didn’t like grand gestures like that, and Keith had told Lance as much.

Lance had rolled his eyes and said, “Yeah, okay sure. Allura wouldn’t like that, I know that now, but I don’t know,” he’d shrugged, “I think I’d like someone to do something like that for me.” He’d grinned, “Do you know what I had to go through to borrow that boombox? Hell. I had to go through hell.”

Keith laughed and rolled his eyes at Lance, thinking he was just being dramatic. Sure, rental places had stupid wavers you had to fill and contracts you had to sign, but it couldn’t have been that bad. But as Keith cleaned out Mathew Holt’s closet and his hand touched something slimy for the second time in a row, Keith realized that he’d been telling one hundred percent of the truth.

Keith really hoped the stars, the planets, and the oceans were aligned for him. Keith needed this to work.

He really needed it to.

* * *

Keith chewed on the side of his nails as he waited for the Skype call to load, his knee bouncing anxiously.

“Hey, loser,” Acxa said as she picked up the call. “Woah,” she said as soon as the camera focused. “You doing okay, man? You look like a mess. Is it because I called you a loser? I was only joking dude.”

“Thanks,” Keith deadpanned. “I—is now a good time? To talk?”

“I answered, didn’t I?” Acxa said.

“Yeah, I just mean, you’ve got a mysterious girlfriend now and I don’t want to take any time away—”

“Keith, relax,” Acxa cut him off. “Tell me what’s up.”

Keith looked at her for a few beats, his heart racing as he thought about what he was going to do tomorrow. “I’m about to do something really stupid and embarrassing, and I don’t know if I can pull it off, but it’s for love so I really, really need it to work,” Keith got out in one big rush.

Acxa blinked. “You’re what?”

“I need to get Lance back, a-and—” Keith was cut off again, this time by a door opening and a familiar voice calling out a hello in the background. “Who is that?” Keith asked instead, momentarily distracted by the interruption.

Acxa looked behind her and a smile curled over her lips. “Oh, that’s her. That’s my girlfriend,” she said, like she still couldn’t believe it. A vaguely familiar silhouette ducked into frame to kiss the top of Acxa’s head.

“Who’re you talking to?” She asked, and that voice was extremely familiar...Keith just couldn’t place it.

“Best friend from high school,” Acxa said, smiling. Maybe Keith had heard her voice on a call before? No, Keith hasn’t really spoken to Acxa since she started dating her mystery girl.

“Oh, hello—Keith?” Veronica Fucking McClain exclaimed as she ducked to see who Acxa was speaking to.

“Fuck,” Keith said immediately, feeling two seconds away from a panic attack.

“I told you _not_ to break my baby brother’s heart and what do you do? You broke it! What the hell, Keith! You’re lucky you’re so far away, I swear to God—”

“Veronica, woah, slow down, how do you know Keith?” Acxa cut her off.

“This little shit dated my brother,” Veronica hissed, glaring at Keith.

“Your baby brother Lance is Keith’s Lance?” Acxa asked at the same time that Keith said: “We never actually dated.”

Both sets of eyes cut to him. “Excuse me?” Veronica said. “I need you to repeat that again for me. Because it sounded like you said you guys never dated when I _know_ that’s a lie considering you were at my house for Memorial Day.”

Keith felt a blush work up his chest all the way to his ears and he had to look away. “We never really dated. We were faking the whole time, or something. It was stupid and it was Lance’s idea to get back at our crushes, but it didn’t work out because he was in love with me the whole time and then I fell in love back, and then he freaked out over something _I didn’t even do_ and now I have to fix it.”

They both just blinked at him for a moment, dumbfounded.

“What?” Veronica finally asked.

Keith sighed and rubbed his face, embarrassed by his rambling and upset that _more_ people were shitting on him for something Keith _knew_ he never did. He settled on a shrug instead of answering, not really knowing what to say to that anyway.

“It sure as hell didn’t look like faking while you were vacationing at my house is all,” Veronica snarked.

Keith shrugged again, “It wasn’t by then. At least not for me.”

Veronica groaned, “You two are such idiots, oh my God!”

Keith deflated a little bit.

“So, what’re your plans? You said you’re going to fix this?” Veronica pressed.

Keith looked her in the eye. “Something super stupid and embarrassing, but sappy and romantic.”

“Boombox right?” Veronica deadpanned.

“Yeah,” Keith admitted.

Veronica crossed her arms and sighed, “He’s going to love it. Just don’t fuck up.”

“Right,” Keith squeaked, because it was just that easy. Don’t fuck up.

* * *

It was 11 PM and Keith was standing outside Lance’s dorm in the nicest outfit he owned, huddled under an umbrella with a 10 pound boombox on his lap, and Lance still wasn’t home. Keith should have already packed up and gone home two hours ago when it started to rain, but he just couldn’t bring himself to leave. He _needed_ this to work and he wasn’t going to settle for anything less.

Because Lance deserved someone to go through hell for him. He deserved someone who would wait in the rain to serenade him with the sweet, sweet sound of Steve Gregory’s saxophone playing. He deserved someone who would hoist a 10 pound boombox in the air and thoroughly embarrass themselves so that he could laugh and live out something he’d dreamed of his entire life.

Lance deserved that and Keith so desperately wanted to be the one to give it to him.

At around 11:30-ish, Keith heard voices coming up the sidewalk. He didn’t really pay them any mind until he heard a very familiar laugh. A laugh that sent his heart racing and his lungs stuttering.

It was Lance. Lance was finally home.

Keith hastily stood up, turned on the boombox and started walking towards the sound.

“Lance!” Keith called to get his attention. Lance turned, his head popping up and his smile fading from under his umbrella. His hair was wet and curling at the ends. He had his track suit on, the blue colour making his gorgeous eyes pop. He just came from swim practice.

Keith hoisted the boombox onto his shoulder and pressed play, a huge hopeful grin on his face as the first few notes of _Careless Whisper_ floated into the wet, night air.

Lance stood motionless for a few beats, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open in shock. Finally he snapped out of it, a few different emotions flitting across his face before he settled on a glare.

“No,” Lance said, his gorgeous blue eyes filling with tears, “No, you’re not allowed to do this.”

“Not allowed to do what?” Keith asked, his heart sinking into the ground.

“Y-you’re n-not allowed to catch me off guard like this!” He exclaimed, wiping his face. “I mean, c’mon! How—how is this fair?”

Keith looked at the other guys he was walking home with, all of them sporting huge grins at the display. Keith took that as a good sign and continued, “You said you wanted someone to _Careless Whisper_ you. So, I’m _Careless Whisper_ -ing you.”

“That’s definitely not a verb,” Lance huffed, crossing his arms and taking a step toward Keith.

“Yeah, well, I’m making it a verb,” Keith said, taking a step of his own towards Lance.

“Wh—I—uh—” Lance stuttered indignantly, “You can’t just make something that’s not a verb a verb.”

“Sure I can,” Keith snarked over the sound of George Micheal’s angelic voice.

“No, you can’t!”

“Who’s gonna stop me? The totally real grammar police?” Keith rolled his eyes.

Lance stuttered a few more indignant sounds before he let out a little amused huff. “Shut up,” he wiped his face. “What do you want?”

Keith shrugged, then put the boombox on the ground without hitting pause. It was starting to get heavy. “I wanted to tell you that you really are like Meryl Streep.”

Lance’s face crumpled into a look that was just pure confusion. “What?”

“You remember when this whole thing started?” Keith asked. “You said I wouldn’t be able to pull it off because I was, and I quote, ‘No Natalie Portman’ and I said, ‘You’re no Meryl Streep yourself’ and it was a whole thing.” Keith smiled. “Well, I change my mind. You’re Meryl Streep.”

“Keith, I don’t understand how this has anything to do with—” Lance frowned, but Keith cut him off.

“You’re such a good, dumb actor that I didn’t even realize you’ve been trying to make me jealous for a whole goddamned _year_ . God, I’m _such_ an idiot,” Keith facepalmed, laughing a little.

“Keith, what’re you talking about?”

“I thought you were in love with Allura this whole time, dummy,” Keith laughed. “And you were trying to make me jealous, but I was so far up my own ass with the whole Shiro thing and then the whole Allura thing that I couldn’t even see that you were actually in love with me.”

“Keith—” Lance tried again.

“Well, it worked,” Keith finally said.

“What—" Lance started, but didn’t get very far because Keith surged forward and kissed him. Their umbrellas bumped, and their teeth clacked, and a few little rain drops splattered on their faces, but none of that mattered because barely a second later, Lance’s hands were coming up to cup Keith’s cheeks to right the kiss and then they were melting together.

Keith didn’t even care that his face got wet from the rain, or that  _Careless Whisper_ was still playing, or that all of Lance’s swimming buddies were cheering behind him, because Lance was warm and solid under his lips and there was no way that Keith was going to mess this up again.

Because as  _Careless Whisper_ filled the air, Keith knew that things were going to be okay.

* * *

 

**Epilogue** : 4 months later 

 

* * *

 Keith didn’t think he was ever going to get used to waking up in Lance’s bed. With soft hazy yellow light streaming across his face, turning Lance’s skin a delicious caramel brown, and making time feel like molasses. Keith turned onto his side, and smiled softly at Lance. His eyes were still closed, but he was awake. Keith could tell by how the corner of his cheek wobbled a little as he tried not to smile.

“Good morning,” Keith whispered.

Lance finally cracked, his smile forming. “I’m asleep,” he whispered back.

“Funny, you seem pretty awake,” Keith teased.

“No way, I’m totally sleeping,” Lance insisted.

“Okay, then I guess if you’re sleeping, I probably shouldn’t bother you with morning cuddles,” Keith started moving to roll out of bed.

“Hey now, let’s not get hasty,” Lance said cracking his eyes open, finally, and wrapping his arm around Keith’s waist.

Keith smiled so big, he could feel the corners of his eyes crinkle. He smoothed his hand up Lance’s bare chest, “Good morning part two.”

Lance laughed, “Good morning part two.”

They sat there for a few beats, just smiling at each other, soaking in each other’s sunshine. “Would it be too much of an unforgivable crime for me to kiss you with morning breath?” Keith asked.

“It’s a crime that could be forgiven,” Lance said.

Keith grinned and rolled towards him, his hand smoothing up to Lance’s cheek as he pulled him in for a sleepy kiss. I wasn’t anything passionate or firey or dirty. It was just a simple kiss to remind Lance of how much Keith loved him. A gentle reminder that Keith wanted to be there, and that he’d always be there for as long as Lance wanted him. It made something heavy, and gooey, and warm bloom in Keith’s chest.

Finally, when they pulled away from each other slowly, they didn’t go far. Keith swiped his thumb across Lance’s cheekbone and smiled fondly down at him. Keith felt like he hadn’t stopped smiling since they got together, and didn’t think he’d be able to stop any time soon.

“I literally cannot get over how gorgeous you are,” Keith hummed.

“You’re just realizing this just now?” Lance laughed, “I’ve always been like this. It’s just that your hate boner got in the way of you getting 24/7 access to all this.” He gestured to the rest of his body.

Keith laughed and rolled his eyes. “I did not have a hate boner!” He said indignantly. “I just...may have been in a little bit of denial.”

“Over what?” Lance laughed. “My hot, smoking bod?”

“Shut up!” Keith laughed, pushing Lance’s shoulder playfully.

Lance caught Keith’s hand. He placed it over his chest. He looked at him from below his lashes, smiling bashfully and so fondly that it made Keith’s chest constrict from just looking at him. Fuck, how is this even fair?

Keith kissed Lance, slowly and fondly. “I guess your body is pretty smoking,” he conceded with a tiny smile.

“Yours isn’t half bad either,” Lance grinned, smoothing his hand down Keith’s back, causing Keith to shiver under the attention, a familiar warmth pooling in his belly. He bit his lip, his lip ring catching between his teeth.

“Yeah?” Keith said, butterflies fluttering in his chest. “Really think so?”

“Of course,” Lance said softly, moving closer to Keith. He leaned in to press another soft kiss to Keith’s lips, and when he pulled away he gently rubbed his nose against Keith’s. “Positive. One hundred and ten percent.”

“Wow, that’s pretty sure,” Keith teased lightly.

“Well yeah, I’m pretty sure about a lot of things about you,” Lance said before rolling so he was on top of Keith.

“Oh, is that right?” Keith asked, crooking an eyebrow at Lance playfully. “And what things might you be sure about?”

“Oh you know,” Lance started, smoothing his hand up Keith’s side. “I’m sure that your workout regimen is a gift from God.”

Keith laughed, “My workout regimen?”

“Oh yeah, I’m a big fan,” Lance grinned and leaned down so he was able to press a kiss between Keith’s pecs, his twinkling baby blues never leaving Keith’s. “Especially if it keeps you looking like this.” Lance’s voice dipped low on that, sparking something low in Keith’s belly.

“Maybe you should date my workout regime then,” Keith teased, running a hand through the short hair at the back of Lance’s head.

“And miss out on the results?” Lance scoffed and kissed the bottom of Keith’s sternum. “No way, baby. This is way better than some dumb piece of paper.”

“My regimen isn’t on a piece of paper,” Keith snarked, his breath hitching as he watched Lance move down to nibble a little on the side of Keith ribs.

“Semantics, baby,” Lance purred. “I still think this is a better deal than anything.”

“Oh, so you’re just with me for my muscles?” Keith continued playfully.

“Among other things,” Lance said, his voice wobbling around a chuckle. “Your ass is pretty nice too.”

Keith made a little mock-affronted noise and playfully pushed Lance’s head. “You really are a smart ass.”

“But I’m _your_ smart ass,” Lance replied with a grin.

Keith smiled fondly down at him, a warm gooey ball of something unfurling in his chest. “You’re incorrigible,” Keith said, his voice way too fond for the words he was saying. Lance nibbled a little on the skin just under Keith’s ribs and he couldn’t stop the little groan that left him even if he tried.

“And you’re adorable,” Lance said as he placed little kisses all the way down Keith’s stomach until he was hovering just above Keith’s tented briefs. He chuckled lowly, the sound making Keith’s cock jump excitedly. “Looks like someone’s excited.”

“Fuck off,” Keith chuckled breathlessly, a little pink blush settling high on his cheeks.

Lance chuckled, the warm air hitting the tip of Keith's cock and making him squirm. “I’m getting there if you’d let me,” Lance hummed.

“Well, maybe if you weren’t such a tease we’d be there already,” Keith snarked, a warm smile on his face.

“But everything’s so much better when I get to tease you,” Lance mumbled, his lips brushing Keith’s cockhead through his briefs.

Keith let out a shaky breath at the contact, “You don’t seem to like it very much when I tease you.”

“Like I said, it’s way more fun when _I_ get to tease _you_ ,” Lance grinned, finally wrapping his lips around Keith’s tip.

“Unbelievable,” Keith snarked shakily, his hips rocking up a little to get a little more friction. Lance just moved his hands to hold Keith’s hips down as he continued to mouth at Keith through his underwear.

After what felt like ages, but was probably only a minute or two, Lance finally rolled Keith’s briefs down far enough for Lance to get his mouth around Keith’s cock.

“Finally,” Keith groaned as Lance bobbed his head down. Lance flicked his eyes up, a little tilt to his eyebrows that said _I did not take that long, you’re being dramatic_ , but instead of cowing Keith, it made the fire in his belly burn a little hotter.

Lance rolled his eyes and went back to his work, so Keith’s cock must have twitched or something. Keith just loved it when Lance looked at him while he was sucking his cock. The way his wonderful thin lips stretched around him, and his blue eyes shone from under his eyelashes — fuck, it was truly a sight to behold.

Keith was brought back when Lance pulled up and pressed the tip of his tongue into Keith’s slit. Keith let out a moan at that, his head falling back onto the pillows behind him and his hand flying up to cover his mouth a little.

Lance bobbed his head down and then back up again, sucking so hard on the upstroke that his cheeks hollowed. Keith let out another groan, this one a little muffled because of his hand. Lance popped off Keith’s cock, but kept his hand moving languidly.

“Keith, baby, let me hear you,” Lance hummed. “You know how much I love to hear how loud I make you.”

Keith groaned, a little in frustration, wanting Lance’s magical mouth back on him immediately. They’d barely started and Keith was already so keyed up. He squirmed and moved his hand. Lance grinned and ducked back down, giving Keith cock a messy lick from root to tip like a popsicle before taking the whole thing into his mouth again.

“God, you’re such a weirdo,” Keith moaned and tried to rock his hips up into the warm heat of Lance’s mouth.

Lance hummed around Keith’s cock, the vibrations only succeeding in driving Keith crazier. Lance flicked his eyes up again, and if his mouth wasn’t full of dick, Keith knew he’d be smirking. Not a second later Lance was bobbing his head again, his cheeks hollowing on every up stroke and Keith’s cock going deeper down his throat on every downstroke.

Keith threw his head back onto the pillows and let out a series of low, pleased groans. Lance pressed his tongue into the top of Keith’s cock again, leaving Keith unable to stop the string of curses that left him.

“God, Lance, fuck—” Keith groaned. Keith reached blindly for the bedside table, his hands shaking as he felt around for the bottle of lube he knew was there. Once he had it, he tossed it down to Lance accidentally hitting him in the head.

“Keith—” Lance popped off, complaining before he saw what hit him. He grinned up at Keith and licked his lips. “Really?” He asked holding the lube up a little.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Keith said, rocking his hips up a little.

Lance’s grin widened and he ducked down again, except this time instead of taking Keith’s cock into his mouth, he bumped Keith’s legs onto his shoulders and nibbled on the swell of Keith’s ass.

“God, I really do love your ass,” Lance hummed. “Like I could sit here and stare at it all day.”

“Don’t have all day,” Keith huffed. “I want you inside of me, like, yesterday.”

Lance tsked sarcastically. “Always in such a rush, you never just let me stop and enjoy the roses.”

“Not if the roses are stopping you from fucking me, c’mon,” Keith let out a little frustrated groan. “I tossed lube at you to hurry us up, not set us back 30 years.”

Lance chuckled and kissed the inside of Keith’s thigh. “Okay, okay,” he said, spreading Keith’s cheeks apart and licked a broad stroke across Keith’s hole. Keith let his head fall back, a little groan leaving him. He was still a little sensitive from the night before, and probably a little stretched still too.

Keith could feel Lance’s grin against his skin as he pulled his cheeks further apart. He pressed his thumb against Keith’s rim and then let out a short chuckle. “Damn, baby, you’re still loose from last night.”

“You’re big,” Keith huffed, then immediately regretted it as he felt Lance’s grin grow.

“Oh ho ho, I’m that big?” Lance crowed.

“Absolutely not, I take it back. You’re below average, tiny even— _fuck_ —” Keith broke off, his voice pitching up and going a little breathy at the end as Lance swirled his tongue around Keith’s rim.

“What was that you were saying about my massive cock?” Lance cooed.

“I was saying it’s fucking tin— _ah_ —” Keith broke off again, Lance pushing his thumb passed his rim as he prodded his tongue next to it.

“I think I misheard you,” Lance teased.

“I think you need to focus,” Keith back grabbing Lance’s hair and shoving his head back down. “C’mon, get to work.”

Lance laughed then licked Keith’s hole again. He pulled his thumb away and circled his tongue around the muscle. Keith moaned lowly, pressing down on Lance’s head to make him go faster and deeper.

Lance pressed his tongue into Keith, the muscle still loose enough for it to be easy. He fucked Keith with his tongue for a few beats before he wrapped his lips around Keith’s hole and sucked.

Keith arched his back and pressed his hips into Lance’s face, a long groan leaving him. “Fuck. Lance! God—” Keith moaned loudly, absolutely loving when Lance did that.

Lance popped the lube open, the sound making Keith buck his hips down on instinct as Lance kissed and nibbled around Keith’s hole. After a few beats, Lance pressed a finger against Keith and slid it in slowly and without resistance.

“Yes,” Keith groaned, one of his legs pressing into Lance’s back.

Lance pressed his tongue into Keith’s rim. He wasn’t able to press it inside, but the pressure felt amazing and Keith couldn’t stop the pleased little noises that were leaving him.

Soon, Lance pressed in a second finger, crooking them and scissoring them apart to stretch Keith a little faster. Looks like Lance was just as eager to get this show on the road as Keith was.

Lance twisted his wrist and angled his fingers forward and Keith lost his breath as he found his prostate. His back arched and his hands tightened in Lance’s hair as a loud, “Yes, there! Lance, there!” left him.

Lance chuckled, that low sexy laugh that Keith loved as he added a third finger to press against Keith’s prostate.

“Fuck!” Keith gasped, his voice pitching up an octave and his thighs squishing around Lance’s head. “Lance, Lance, Lance—” Keith chanted, his hips rocking desperately. “C’mon, I’m g-gonna cum if you d-don’t stop.”

Lance sped up his fingers, and for a terrifying moment, Keith thought he was going to cum before he got Lance’s dick, but then at the very last second, Lance pulled his fingers out, leaving Keith shaking as his orgasm was spoiled.

“Fucking—” Keith growled, his hips bucking wildly as his body sought out Lance’s fingers.

Lance smoothed his hands across Keith’s thighs as he chuckled. He pressed a little kiss to Keith’s twitching hole before he pulled away to hover over Keith. He smoothed his hands up Keith’s sides as Keith panted, the feeling of Lance’s hands on his body feeling amazing.

“You’re the worst,” Keith grumbled breathlessly, and not meaning it one bit.

“You seemed to think differently just a second ago,” Lance teased as he cupped a hand around Keith’s jaw and tilted his head up for a kiss.

Keith hummed into the kiss, feeling a little touch-starved and desperate. Lance tilted his head just so, and Keith groaned, loving the way it went from sweet to heated in a second.

When they separated, Keith smiled shakily and mumbled, “I love you.”

Lance beamed and kissed Keith quickly again, “I love you, too.” Lance ducked his head and quickly got rid of his own briefs before he came back to Keith. He smiled softly and ran his thumb across Keith’s cheekbone.

“You’re really gorgeous, you know that?” Lance hummed.

Keith smiled and smoothed his hands down so they were wrapped around Lance’s neck. “You tell me one or two times a day.”

Lance snorted, “Well, you are.” He thumbed at Keith’s cheek again, “I can’t get over it.”

“Stop,” Keith laughed softly, his fingers idly smoothing across the back of Lance’s neck.

“I can’t,” Lance laughed softly back, “I’m in love.”

Keith’s heart melted a little at that, his face probably doing something dumb. “I’m in love, too,” he said, his voice way sappier than he intended. He just couldn’t help himself. The golden light streaming in through the window made Lance’s skin turn into caramel and his eyes into deep wells of refreshing blue. Lance was gorgeous in the sun, and when he smiled like that—like _Keith_ was a piece of art to be admired—like _Keith_ was the most perfect thing he’d ever laid eyes on—well, Keith couldn’t help but melt.

Lance let out a little happy sound before he lined himself up, the head of his dick pressing against Keith’s hole.

“Amazing,” Lance mumbled, his thumb still smoothing over Keith’s cheekbone, as he finally pressed into Keith.

Keith let out a breathy little groan, his eyes slipping closed as the breath was stolen from his lungs. God, nothing felt better than that first press. There was something about the way Lance split him open, slowly and carefully; about the way it burned like a good workout; about the way his warm hands moved across Keith’s body that drove Keith absolutely wild.

His hands tightened around Lance’s shoulders as Lance dropped his forehead to rest on Keith’s clavicle. “Holy fuck,” he groaned. “So fucking tight for me. Every time, baby, fuck.”

Keith smoothed his hands up into Lance’s hair, his arms wrapped around him in an embrace. Keith loved this, loved when they joined—whether it be rough sex, or loving morning sex like this, being close to Lance was always his favourite part.

“I’m ready, Lance,” Keith hummed. “C’mon.”

Lance pressed a kiss to Keith’s collarbone before he began to roll his hips. He ground slowly, but deeply into Keith, forcing sharp little gasps out of Keith. After a few beats of this, Keith pressed a sloppy kiss to the side of Lance’s head and mumbled, “Faster, please, Lance—faster.”

Lance hooked one of Keith’s legs over his hips and picked up the pace a little. He pressed little kisses all the way up Keith neck to his jaw and finally his lips. Keith leaned into the kiss eagerly, his hips rocking up to meet Lance thrust-for-thrust.

Keith had to pull away to breathe, his chest heaving and overflowing with warmth. “I love you,” he said breathlessly.

“I love you, too,” Lance said back, his hand reaching up to smooth a stray lock of hair out of Keith’s face. “Love you so much.”

Keith let his eyes flutter closed, too overwhelmed by the love in his heart and the pleasure that was racing up his spine. He tightened his hands in Lance’s hair and arched his back, needing more, while it also being too much.

“Lance, please,” Keith whined, not really sure what he was asking for.

“I’ve got you, baby,” Lance groaned, his arms holding Keith as his thrusts sped up. Keith groaned happily at that and pressed his heel into the small of Lance’s back, urging him on.

Lance chuckled lowly and started fucking into Keith faster. Keith arched his back and dug his nails into Lance’s shoulders, barely able to come up with a single thought other than _Lance_. The way this skin glowed in the morning sun; the way his cock hit Keith’s prostate on every wonderful thrust; the way his eyes squeezed shut and his eyebrows drew together as he came apart; the way his hands held Keith so perfectly. Lance was perfect and Keith wanted him to know it.

“Perfect,” Keith panted, the word coming out messy and mostly unintelligible. “Perfect,” Keith tried again, this time he groaned it, louder and clearer. “You’re perfect,” he groaned again, his fingers pressing into Lance’s back as he held on and took whatever Lance gave him because it was all _perfect_.

Lance huffed out some sort of amused noise and he pressed his forehead into Keith’s lovingly. He rubbed their noses together, both of them too out of breath to kiss. Keith squeezed his eyes shut and held Lance to him.

Keith felt so _full_. Full of cock, and hope, and love. He was so full he felt like he was going to explode. It took Keith a moment to realize that he was going to cum.

“Keith, I’m close,” Lance grunted. “You want— _fuck_ —you want me to pull out?”

“No!” Keith cried before he even processed what Lance said. “No, no, it’s okay.”

“Fuck, Keith,” Lance cried, “You’re killing me.”

It didn’t take long after that for Keith to cum, his back arching and his brain whiting out. There was nothing but static in his ears and fireworks behind his eyes. Keith could vaguely remember Lance groaning as he ducked his face into his neck and came, filling him even fuller than he already was.

They lay like that for a few beats, panting into each other’s hair. Eventually Lance had to pull out, too uncomfortable and sensitive. Lance reached for the wet-wipes he kept on the bedside table and quickly wiped himself and Keith down.

As soon as Lance laid next to him, Keith cuddled into him. He dropped his head onto Lance’s chest, just over the tattoo he’d just gotten last month of a compass over his heart—he’d said some sappy bullshit about his heart always leading him home and that Keith couldn’t feel more than right then.

Lance wrapped an arm around Keith waist and dropped a kiss onto the top of his head. “That was awesome,” Lance hummed happily.

Keith let out a little laugh. “Yeah, I’m ready to go right back to sleep.”

Keith felt Lance’s head move. “It’s only 10, you should go back to sleep. Lord knows you never get enough on a regular day.”

Keith yawned, “M’kay. Maybe I will.”

Lance chuckled, his hand moving up and down Keith’s side absently. That motion is eventually what lulled Keith back to sleep.

* * *

“Hey,” Lance mumbled, lightly shaking Keith awake. “I’m gonna go  make breakfast.”

“Sounds good,” Keith mumbled snuggling into the soft warmth below him.

Lance chuckled, “Babe, I can’t make us breakfast when you’re sleeping on me.”

Keith cracked an eye open and realized he was, in fact, lying mostly on top of Lance. “Oh, sorry,” Keith mumbled rolling off Lance and wincing a little at the slight burn in his lower back. He felt sticky and gross and needed a shower asap.

“Don’t be sorry,” Lance hummed, pressing a kiss to Keith head before he got up. “I love cuddling with you, I just started to think my stomach was going to start eating me if I didn’t do something soon.”

Keith laughed fondly as he watched Lance cross the room. He pulled on a loose sweater and a pair of clean briefs making him look positively huggable.

“What’re you gonna make me?” Keith asked.

“Who said I was making _you_ anything?” Lance teased.

“You did, like two seconds ago,” Keith grinned.

Lance rolled his eyes and walked over to the bed, “I’m making _us_ omelettes.” He leaned down and kissed Keith again. “Ham and cheese in yours right?”

Keith smiled warmly, “Yes please.” He pressed up for another kiss.

“Alright. Gourmet ham and cheese omelette coming right up,” Lance kissed him again before leaving for the kitchen.

Keith sighed happily and flopped down onto the bed. Never in his life did Keith think he’d ever be this happy. And never did he think Lance would be the one to make him this happy. What was Keith’s life and how did this happen?

After a few beats of just lying there, thinking happy thoughts, Keith finally rolled out of bed. He landed funny and limped a few steps before finally making it to the bathroom. He washed himself off quickly and may-or-may-not have used Lance’s body wash while he was in there.

(It just smelled really good, okay? And it made his skin soft. It’s not a crime to want to smell nice and have nice skin!)

Keith threw on a pair of clean briefs and a pair of Lance’s pyjama shorts before making his way out to the kitchen, following his nose to where all the lovely smells of breakfast were coming from.

Keith leaned against the doorway to the kitchen to watch Lance sing and dance as he cooked. He was so cute, his tiny little flat ass bouncing to the song on the radio as he mumbled the lyrics to himself. Keith smiled fondly, unable to control himself.

“You just gonna stand there and enjoy the show, Samurai?” Lance teased. “Or are you gonna come join me?” He peeked over his shoulder, his blue eyes shining and full of mirth.

Keith rolled his eyes, “I don’t dance.”

“Nice High School Musical reference, now come here,” Lance snarked.

Keith huffed a laugh and walked towards him. He wrapped his arms around Lance’s waist, pressing a quick peck to his cheek before resting his chin on Lance’s shoulder. “Smells good,” Keith hummed.

“It’s because of my magic fingers,” Lance said, winking at Keith. “They make things good. I am my mother’s son, yknow?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty aware of how magic those fingers are, thanks,” Keith teased.

“Oh ho ho, this morning wasn’t enough?” Lance laughed.

“Nah, I’m good for another hour at least,” Keith joked. “You won’t last 20 minutes though.”

Lance laughed. “As if! I didn’t make all this food just to let it get cold!”

“It’s happened before,” Keith nibbled on Lance’s jaw before pulling away. “You want orange juice, or coffee this morning?”

“Orange juice, I hate having enamel,” Lance joked.

Keith rolled his eyes and poured them both a glass. “You literally use Sensodyne toothpaste. Your enamel is God tier.”

“Exactly, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise,” Lance laughed as he placed the omelets onto plates. Keith hopped up on the counter as Lance turned off the stove. He handed Keith a plate and Keith handed Lance a glass and they ate together at the counter in peace.

“It’s kind of burned,” Keith commented as he chewed. “Still good though.”

“How dare you,” Lance said, narrowing his eyes playfully. “I worked hard to give you the best breakfast of your life.”

“I said it was still good!” Keith laughed.

“No, you made me sad, Keith,” Lance pouted, putting the plate onto the sink. “So sad. Alexa play despacito.”

Keith groaned, “Are you for real?” as the (unfortunately) familiar guitar riff filled the room.

“What, you don’t like _Despacito_?” Lance teased, “This song is lit.”

“Okay, one, who the hell over 15 says _lit_ , and two, _Despacito_? I can’t believe you’d play me like this!”  Keith exclaimed. “I can’t believe that the man of my dreams is a shitty memelord.”

“Wait, hold your horses, cowboy!” Lance said, grinning brightly at Keith. “ _I’m the man of your dreams?_ ”

“That’s not what I said,” Keith said.

“Hohohoho,” Lance said, lip curling, “That’s exactly what you said. So me? That’s who you’re referring to?”

“You know how they go!” Keith said, rolling his eyes.

Lance shook his head and pulled Keith into a deep kiss. He bit lightly at Keith’s bottom lip and pulled, making a kaleidoscope of butterflies erupt in Keith’s stomach. “Say that again,” Lance mumbled, his voice a little giddy.

“Hm?” Keith hummed, trying to fight off a smile.

“Say it again,” Lance said, placing his forehead onto Keith’s.

Keith finally let his smile go. “You’re the man of my dreams,” he whispered.

Lance surged forward and kissed Keith all over. His forehead, eyes, cheeks, and then his lips. He nuzzled their noses together as Keith wrapped his arms around Lance to bring him closer. They both started laughing at their ridiculousness before Lance shimmied out of Keith’s grasp to start dancing again.

“This song is so overplayed!” Keith whined.

“If it is, then why are you dancing?” Lance stuck his tongue out. “See you’re moving your head like that. Your argument is invalid.”

“You’re delusional!” Keith definitely had been moving his head a little to the song, but he was not going to let Lance know that.

Lance shook his head, seeing right through Keith. He started swaying his hips in these annoyingly distracting little circles as he sang along to the lyrics, like he didn’t know it drove Keith absolutely batshit in the best way when he spoke Spanish.

“ _Pasito a pasito, suave, suavecito / Nos vamos pegando / Poquito a poquito,”_ Lance sang, his hand out for Keith to take. Finally Keith rolled his eyes and took Lance’s hand and slipped off the countertop.

_“Hasta provocar tus gritos / Y que olvides tu apellido,”_ Lance sang as he reeled Keith into his arms. “ _Despacito_ ,” Lance whispered softly into Keith’s ear, causing a delicious shiver to rush up his spine.

Lance slowly moved out of Keiths neck to press a slow kiss to Keith’s lips as his hands smoothed up Keith spine, taking the same path his shiver had just taken a moment ago.

“I love you,” Lance said sincerely. “Like a lot.”

And here’s the thing: a little over a year ago, Keith literally gagged at the idea of even fake dating this boy. This one single boy who managed to create something fixed and stable for the both of them—something Keith had desperately craved his whole life. They went from enemies in freshman year of college, to barely tolerating each other in sophomore year, to being completely and wholly infatuated by junior year.

Keith wondered how he managed to live his life without Lance. He couldn’t imagine it now. Lance was his best friend…and as cheesy as it sounds, kind of the love of his life.

Keith wasn’t too sure what the future might bring, but he planned on never letting go of this boy.

His boy.

“I love you too,” Keith said, smiling right back. “Like a lot.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
fin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the last time y'all:
> 
> Karlee:  
> [Personal Tumblr](https://sunscreams.tumblr.com)  
> [Voltron Tumblr](https://klancend.tumblr.com)
> 
> Dee:  
> [Tumblr](https://dee-who.tumblr.com)  
> [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/tweedeez/)


End file.
